It’s the sweltering season again and this one’s the worst yet. We have about three more months of it to look forward to and just this fact alone is enough to send me packing. It’s surprisingly similar to suffering through the dead of winter in a northern climate: not just mother nature feels like your enemy, but also father time.
Just like during a northern winter, here you also feel imprisoned indoors for endless afternoons and miserable nights. They have that condition up north where folks suffer symptoms of depression from a lack of sunlight, so I figure there is certainly one they haven’t discovered yet that comes from too much of it. I mean, not just skin cancer, but some similar emotional ailment with symptoms like permanent crankiness and partial deafness from the rumbling cacophony of blowing fans and window units. It sounds like living in the belly of a factory.
Still I complain though I know I shouldn’t. Handy hubby sweats through several t-shirts a day and lasts hours past my own meager heat threshold, and that can be all day when he pushes himself. I am truly in awe of such folks! The Mexican family that sells the most marvelous tamales possible all live, cook, and run a business in their air-conditionless house, and they are smiling ear to ear every time I’m in there, chatting with stoppers-by and playing with their dogs and children with beads of sweat rolling down their collars and clothes glued to their chests and thighs. They are so jolly I have to exchange a few sentences in Spanglish because their happiness is truly contagious. For about 3 minutes. I bounce back to the car and the blasting a/c wondering, why can’t I be happy dripping every day all day in sticky clothes, that would make my summers here so much more tolerable. But I know the real truth, I won’t be happy until I can escape somewhere cooler, and soon. At the moment Alaska, Maine, and Scandinavia are at the top of my DailyFareWatcher! email alerts.
I have no idea how I might make this escape from dog and chicken duty and garden maintenance, nor do I have any clue from where the money will magically appear, but like a lot of folks last year I read that ridiculous book The Secret, so I know if I just keep imagining myself lounging on a cool balcony gazing at snow-capped mountain peaks, maybe even cut out some magazine pics and create my own Arctic-themed vision board, that this dream will manifest itself in due time.
I really hope that happens before I melt.