When Did I Move To Iraq?
|"Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot." - Eugene Morris Jerome, Biloxi Blues|
So, I'm running out to get my father his birthday present - which will never get there in time because he moved to Delaware - when it hits me: it's frakking hot outside!!! I tune the car radio, which is the only instrument in my Saturn that hasn't melted, to the all-news station. After a few minutes, the forecast comes over the air.
"The high today will reach a balmy 96 degrees, but the heat index will make it seem like 110."
I'm sorry, what did he say?
Now, as a big, fat guy, I sweat when I breathe. This, however, is ridiculous. I still can't mow the lawn - which, in fairness, has all but died - and posting is a chore, since my basement is not air conditioned. The current temp down here is 80; not too bad, but the humidity is brutal! My complicated brain is like a computer - I need cool air to keep it running at full efficiency, lest I post about something as inane as the weather in Philly. (Okay, by "computer" I mean a Commodore Vic 20.)
If this keeps up, I may end up posting about clouds tomorrow. Yikes!