July 22, Friday
Imagine a man that you don’t like.
Really don’t like.
Now imagine him 300 lbs. heavier.
With sweaty bad hygiene.
Now imagine you and he sardined into a dumbwaiter.
That’s what 89% humidity feels like when it’s 95 degrees outside.
It’s been a long week of a miserably repressive regime of high heat and humidity. We don’t have central air and even with the every window flung open to catch any breeze, by 10am sweat is dripping between your shoulder blades and there’s a sweat-soaked fringe around your hairline. The girls come in from playing sporting little sweat mustaches.
The freezer is stocked with ice pops and fruit bars. The girls fill ziplock bags with ice cubes and lay them across the backs of their necks while they read in bed. We go to Starbucks and the grocery store and the library, and ride around in the air-conditioned car. We even tour chocolate factories.