I wanted to write something funny and scintillating this morning but my brain is sitting in its underwear in front of the air conditioner, and two fans advertised as mobile typhoon generators, sweating snynapses all over itself.
My fingers are hanging limp at my sides (I'm typing this with my tongue) panting from the sweltering heat and humidity, wondering when did we move back to New Orleans, and why weren't they told? Now I know how those in the midwestern states felt over the last two weeks. Only we haven't reached temps higher than 102F yet, so we don't have it as bad so far.
It is so blasted hot that YouTube has forgotten how to embed videos. I tried to bring several vids to illustrate just how hot it is today but every one of them failed to launch, so after several attempts, I quit trying. I Googled melting ice cubes, waterfalls and Ella singing Cole Porter's, "It's Too Darned Hot," but could not embed them nor provide links. Must be because I'm typing with my tongue and I'm not holding it right.
At least I can listen to Queen Ella of the Fitzgeralds on my boom-box while standing in a shower of cold water.
Right after I dry off the keyboard. See y'all later!
14 comments:
I read in the paper this morning that you have been experiencing what some might call "glorious sunshine". However it's the humidity that's the killer, what?
I cannot stand such weather; fortunately we do not get it thus very often in UK
My deepest sympathies. I remember that sweltering misery so well.
Avus, you are spot on about the humidity. Several years ago we were moving back to Pennsylvania from California and passed through Arizona - in July. It was 101F at night and over 120F during the day. There was no humidity to speak of, so, while it was blistering hot, our sweat evaporated quickly, thus keeping us somewhat cooler. Went through a lot of drinking water through Arizona and New Mexico. Had there been humidity like there is here today combined with the heat, I think we might have become a family of bleached bones before we got to New Mexico's border.
Oh, but you had it a whole lot worse than we did, Zhoen! I should stop whining.
So glad you, D and Moby got through that mess intact.
After hearing the last set of dire warnings about being out in the heat, I asked my brother how we managed to survive working in tobacco and sweet potatoes when it was this hot. We never paused to think much about it.
He suggested that's why we're so screwed up. He might be right.
So, that's what's wrong with me. I used to chop soybeans and cotton and pick stawberries when we lived in Arkansas over fifty years ago - hot work.
Yep, that would explain a lot.
You are welcome to come visit my area; it was 39f this morning, might get up to 75 or so. Even when we get 'hot' (read 90), it drops 40 or more degrees at night. Oh, and 10% humidity. I don't know anyone here who has air conditioning, and it's not been used in my truck in years.
Mike
Mike, that sounds heavenly. As soon as I can sell my house, I'm moving northwesterly!
And I have been endlessly grumbling about our cold and wet British summer. Apparently we did have summer -- in April, while I was away... Of course if it gets over 80 I begin to grumble all over again. I just shrug and admit to being the Woman Who is Never the Right Temperature.
I was sure you're in Georgia, but I guess not. We're not quite so hot, but we've been dealing with it way longer.
Hello, Duchess; good to see you here.
"Woman Who is Never the Right Temperature" sounds much better than "This Whiner," so I'll adopt that, too.
Thank you for stopping by, Diane.
I suppose if we had had our usual two hot days followed by three or four mild ones, then a couple more hot ones, et cetera, I wouldn't think the weather was so hot. However, we're going on three weeks of this and I'm getting dadgummed grumpy about it.
However #2 - I'm still here to complain, so it's all good, dog.
I dropped over to read your blogs a few minutes ago. I'll stop by again; lovely writing.
Hateful byproducts:
Sweaty finger tips slipping off equally slippery keyboard keys.
Sweat transferred from the edge of one's hand to the writing paper. Eventually the ballpoint can't cope.
Sweat dropping from one's forehead or the end of one's nose on to the writing paper. Someone's going to think I've been crying, you say.
Sweat causing writing paper to stick to one's hand.
There is a solution: carve the words in stone.
BB, you've captured the situation perfectly. Where'd I put that cold chisel?
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