I’m talking about horrible hot, humid air, not the kind blown out your backside announcing last night’s chili, but the sort that arrives when a high pressure system—Jeez! Forget about the chili!—moves into a region and hangs over it like Uncle Ned does the toilet when he’s mixed too many deviled eggs and beer again.
I could never live in a rain forest. The heat is one thing, but the humidity sucks major butt. It has been so hot across much of the U.S. that heat advisories are the norm now. And I’m sorry, but anyone who goes out to jog at 2 PM when it’s 98 degrees and the heat index is 116, is an idiot. The hubby and I have been watching The Weather Channel in the evenings, and it is one report after another about people in various areas who have been taken to the ER due to heat stroke or exhaustion. If you’re going to exercise, go out at the butt crack of dawn or wait until it’s almost dark. For crying out loud, a tight ass isn’t worth dying for. And if you’re training for a marathon, dead people can’t run.
It’s hot. Yeah, said that already. I’ll say it again. It’s freaking hot—and miserable! The other day, my hubby came home and said the thermometer in town read 113 degrees. He already works in intense heat because he’s a welder, but add more heat and humidity to it, and the man comes home, eats, cleans up, and then crashes in bed. The weather zaps him, and then I worry about him all day.
One evening, after the sun had started to go down, I went out to water the tomatoes and my flower bed and when I walked back into the house, I thought my contacts had melted to my eyeballs. You know it’s unbelievably hot when you’re out on concrete for a few minutes and your foam flip-flops start falling apart.
I hate winter. I hate being cold. But after this summer, I think I hate high temperatures and humidity more. At least in the cold, you can add more clothes, but no matter how many clothes you take off when it’s hot and humid, you can’t cool off. And I’m not walking around naked or wearing Band-Aids and a thong-ong-ong. The farmers run up and down the road on their tractors too many times a day as it is.
Hmm, which is worse? Summer vacation stuck in the house or cooler temps when the kids go back to school. I dunno… Sometimes dealing with school bs is enough to make me detonate, so you’d think I’d be used to the heat by now, LMAO.