BRING ON THE STORM FRONT

At some point during the day or evening on Friday, this heatwave is supposed to break. I'll be honest: I don't mind the heat, but the humidity is horrifying. The dew point is so high that my sweat has its own sweat.

Over the course of the multi-day heat wave, I clean my patio, throw a BBQ, visit the zoo, and sit outside trying to read.  Out of all the things I accomplish despite the horrid weather, it is the simple act of reading that puts me over the edge.

I set up my chair at 9:40 a.m., and by 10:15, I've melted through my bathing suit and the towel I have draped over my chair, and I've sucked down an entire container of ice water.  Still, I'm sweating profusely.  The air and my face are both so thick with humidity that my glasses keep fogging up.

I've been in the South during the summer.  I know that my body would eventually adjust to the temperature and weather changes.  A few years ago, I spent several days in Delaware during a particularly stubborn heatwave.  The heat index reached 105 degrees daily, and my hotel bathroom became a drying station for oft-changed clothes that I washed by hand and hoped to wear again, like underwear.  By the time I returned to Boston, the temperature was in the 80's, but my body was chilly and I had to avoid air conditioning until I re-acclimated to New England weather.

No such luck today. 

The temperature in the morning is already hovering around 94 degrees, and I am dripping sweat.  My bathing suit has a huge swath of sweat from my decolletage to my navel.  I am probably getting heatstroke or sunstroke, or I might be frying my brain from the inside out.  I last just over an hour before throwing in the towel (literally) and crawl back into the cool air of the air conditioned house.

Honestly, I suspect I might be dying.

Once my body temperature returns to a near-normal level, I sneak back outside to put away the chair and straighten out the patio, then I quickly retreat back inside to pay bills and make a shopping list.  Anything is better than being out there in the Hell Fires of Hades.

I do have one epiphany -- perhaps a heat-induced hallucination: I don't always love, love, love the snow, but any thoughts of retiring to the South have now vaporized.  I know, I know -- my body can and will adjust to the Southern climate, but right now I feel like a piece of overcooked bacon.  So, if I one day announce that I'm moving to some inland town in Alabama, please remind me of this blog and that I probably don't have enough underwear to change humidity-stretched multiple pairs every single day. 

Remind me that even my sweat has its own sweat in weather like this.  Bring on the storm front!