When Betty and I walked outside this morning to allow her to answer the call of nature, leaving the zone of air-conditioned comfort behind, the heat immediately engulfed us. Even after hours of cooling darkness, the temperature at 5:30 still hovered above 70 degrees. That’s when you know for sure it is going to be another hot one–and you are grateful that, unlike your canine companion, you aren’t wearing a fur coat.
You can look at your weather app and see predictions of a solid week of high temperatures in the 90s, but the first furnace blast of a Midwestern summer (even though technically it’s still late spring) isn’t really understood until it is personally experienced. The rational mind seeks to forget the super-hot weather and usually accomplishes that task during the depths of winter, when the warm days are recalled with pleasure.
But you don’t think of the real scorchers, with highs in the 90s (or above), do you? No, you’ve forgotten the days where it feels like you are immersed in a vat of a dragon’s moist, searing breath and your shirt starts to cling to your back within seconds of venturing outside. But when those days finally arrive, as they inevitably do, you remember: extra-hot days really kind of suck. And unlike super-cold days, where you can add an extra layer to protect against the arctic chill, on the super-hot days there’s really not much you can do, except drink cool drinks, stay indoors as much as possible, and attempt to achieve a zen-like state of tranquility where you unconditionally accept the reality that any time spent outside is going to leave you a sweaty, dispirited mess.
Whoo-hoo! Summer’s here!
Webner House 