In this week’s episode, I complain about the heat. It tends to bring to bring out my inner grouch. It’s not pretty. You wouldn’t like me when I’m sweaty.
At Least it’s a Dry Heat
I am done with summer. Yes, I know that “technically” it hasn’t started yet, but technically isn’t doing anything to keep my eyeballs from sweating.
I am not fond of warm weather. And by ‘warm” I mean anything over 75 degrees.
Ok, I lied. I mean anything over 70.
You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? I sense terms like “pansy” being tossed about. You can do better than that.
However, you’re going to feel bad when I tell you this all stems from a significant medical condition that means that anytime the bus goes over 75 miles per hour, I explode and everyone dies.
That might be something else.
The truth is I’m allergic to hot.
No, that’s a lie.
The truth is that I have a different thermal tolerance from normal people because of my undisclosed, but very amazing, super powers. Or, I just grew up in a place where 75 was hot, and that’s where my internal thermometer is calibrated, and so, I get whinier about the heat at lower temperatures than most people.
And, I do realize that whining just makes me feel hotter, so, I’ll just try and say something cool.
Wow! I wish you could’ve heard that. It was awesome, and I do think I am feeling a bit cooler. You should try it!
Yeah, it wears off pretty fast, and in the heat of the computer’s glow, I’m having trouble thinking of more cool things to say.
You don’t have to agree with me so quickly. You try being funny when it’s fifty billion degrees outside, and there are bits of bus shrapnel still smoldering only a few feet from where you are sitting!
I’m sorry. That whole heat-induced tirade was unworthy of me, and probably raised my internal temperature four degrees. Let’s be friends.
I have heard a theory that if you move more slowly, you don’t notice the heat quite so much. It’s why everyone moves and talks more slowly in the South. They’re really trying to let the hot air just go right on by them. I’m starting to suspect their efforts simply redirect it straight at me.
When it’s hot in Colorado, everyone will console each other with the oft repeated phrase, “well, at least it’s a dry heat.” Sure, I prefer a dry heat, too, but, it doesn’t make feel any cooler. It makes me want to invite the speaker to sit in my oven for a few hours, where I can annoy them with the same phrase. “I know that 200 degrees seems really hot, but, at least it’s a dry heat…”
I can follow the phrase with an insincere little laugh, and a broad grin while I shut the oven door to keep the heat from escaping and making my house unbearably hot. For the record? I would never put anyone in my oven. It’s far too small for that.
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