. . . the temperature's rising, it isn't surprising, she certainly can can-can.
Okay, so there's no can-can as far as I can see, but we certainly are having a heat wave. In the news it's being declared the "longest, strongest heat wave of the summer", the temperature maps for the area are all screaming red, and everyone looks wilted and a little, um, shall we say, "shiny" as they go about their daily lives melting from one air-conditioned refuge to another.
As I write this, I'm sitting on my balcony and the official weather report says it's 90 degrees Fahrenheit -- but feels like 100 degrees -- with 62% humidity. And I love it. I really do. Sure, I'm sweaty and and feel the tiniest bit claustrophobic, but what's not to love about living in a place where the air around you is such a tangible part of your life? All that muggy softness is like a fluffy damp blanket letting you know that your jasmine plant is about to bloom again.
I realalize that not everyone is going to agree with me, so I'm going to offer some helpful advice to those of you who think that "Scandinavia" and "beach vacation destination" are synonymous: If you want to enjoy the summer in Washington DC, all you have to do is take an extended vacation to a place that has even worse weather! You might, say, spend two-and-a-half weeks running around Vietnam and Cambodia in June, both places where it's just as hot, probably more humid, and blessed with much less air conditioning. Or you might go to Morocco in July when it's 120 degrees Fahrenheit. That way, when you come back to the high summer swamp that is our nation's capital, you'll be saying, "Pshaw! Is that all you've got?"
And now, who wants to sing along with Ella?
Okay, so there's no can-can as far as I can see, but we certainly are having a heat wave. In the news it's being declared the "longest, strongest heat wave of the summer", the temperature maps for the area are all screaming red, and everyone looks wilted and a little, um, shall we say, "shiny" as they go about their daily lives melting from one air-conditioned refuge to another.
As I write this, I'm sitting on my balcony and the official weather report says it's 90 degrees Fahrenheit -- but feels like 100 degrees -- with 62% humidity. And I love it. I really do. Sure, I'm sweaty and and feel the tiniest bit claustrophobic, but what's not to love about living in a place where the air around you is such a tangible part of your life? All that muggy softness is like a fluffy damp blanket letting you know that your jasmine plant is about to bloom again.
I realalize that not everyone is going to agree with me, so I'm going to offer some helpful advice to those of you who think that "Scandinavia" and "beach vacation destination" are synonymous: If you want to enjoy the summer in Washington DC, all you have to do is take an extended vacation to a place that has even worse weather! You might, say, spend two-and-a-half weeks running around Vietnam and Cambodia in June, both places where it's just as hot, probably more humid, and blessed with much less air conditioning. Or you might go to Morocco in July when it's 120 degrees Fahrenheit. That way, when you come back to the high summer swamp that is our nation's capital, you'll be saying, "Pshaw! Is that all you've got?"
And now, who wants to sing along with Ella?
3 comments:
You're cracking me up! (I remember when the song was origially released, and I'm sure I saw it performed on Ed Sullivan or whatever movie it was featured in. I KNOW Grandma sang along with Ella!) So happy for you that your jasmine is blossoming again. And you just go ahead and enjoy all that soggy blanket warmth. I'll sleep better at night knowing you are cozy... Lady
Yes, one may return from such places to say "Pshaw!" but that does not mean one enjoys the DC summer. That is for the crazy types.
The heat is relative. Since moving to the middle of nowhere and living in a very old house, I have gotten used to not having A/C. This week we've have humidity in the 50-60% range which is very rare for New Mexico. The only complaint I have is that things started growing in my diaper bag that used to be squashed pretzels. As you can imagine, I was totally icked out when I had to clean it up.
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