You would think, as a teacher, I would love summer, right?
Not so much.
I despise hot and steamy weather. One of the most miserable times I ever spent was in New Orleans, Louisiana. I have nothing against that beautiful city except her weather. Good Lord, how do people survive? I was there for four days and I should have brought enough clothing for twelve; that’s how many times I was saturated in moisture. There’s nothing like visiting a gorgeous historic city and being blinded by the salt dripping into your eyeballs.
I lived in Dallas for a time where temperatures would regularly be in the 90s. “But it’s a DRY heat,” locals say. And it’s true. When it’s that hot, it’s just hot, like you stood near an oven baking a pie. (mmmm, pie.) You don’t feel various parts of your body being consumed by a wet fog of humidity. Air conditioning is simply to cool off a bit, to feel refreshed.
Humid places, like New Orleans, Houston, and the entire Northeast (where I live) can be wrapped in this dementor-like haze of soupy yuck, where going outside feels like being enveloped in a wet towel that someone has just used. It’s beyond gross.
For a dainty flower like me (insert rolled eyes and gag reflex here) it’s uncomfortable. It’s icky. And it’s sometimes downright humiliating.
(Flash thought! Humiliating and Humidity are very similar! Coincidence?)
When I sweat, it all starts in my face, so that I’m clearly telegraphing my discomfort to anyone who looks my way. It’s a tell-tale little prickle of discomfort on my upper lip that causes me to swipe at it with the side of my index finger just as if I had an itchy spot. The true tell, however, comes within a minute when I have to swipe again. Then the base of my skull through my thick hair begins its own little prickle dance. My eyebrows, not to be outdone in the Moisture Wars, don’t bother with a little warning sign: they go into full attack mode. Those get a full-fledged wipe with my second finger (because heaven forbid I use the same finger in two different spots) and a flick. It’s quite the ballet.
Then we go into technicolor mode, because on a pale-skinned human of Northern European ancestry everything is magnified, the stunning red and pink blotchiness takes off in a magnificent display across my face resulting in the triumphant cries of an adoring audience that says “My God your face is so red are you in trouble?”
Heat + Humidity = Ugly.
I have so much gratitude and respect for people who toil outdoors in this ridiculous heat so that I may be comfortable indoors. The only thing that keeps me from feeling guilty about it is the fact that I spend ten months in a classroom getting various germs sprayed in my direction regularly and I cheerfully shrug it off.
Now, time for my cup of hot tea.
Hey, some things just can’t be ignored.