I know. I know I have been bitching and moaning for the last 6 months about the cold ass, bitter, nasty, wet, dirty, icy, cold, windy, frigid weather. Guilty as charged. I get it. And I’m always begging dear mother nature to lighten up and give us some sun and warmth. Again, I realize this. So, dear reader, please do not roll your eyes in ridiculous irritation as I say the following:
I’m not kidding. I’m dying right now. It was like 79 degrees today and humid as all get out. That’s the thing about Iowa–the hot isn’t only hot…it’s wet. It’s so stinkin‘ humid here that your skin always feels gross, and you never really stop sweating.
I was in getting a haircut today, and they hadn’t turned the air on in the salon. I was in my work clothes and was covered in that lovely little cape. After she washed my hair with hot water and sat me back in the chair, I realized I was warm. Snip snip snip, and a blow dryer later, I was certain I was going to die. She must have seen the exasperation on my face, and she went and opened the door in an attempt to circulate some air. Anyway, the point of the story is that it didn’t work. I had boob sweat, and a little river of salty body water working it’s way down my butt-crack. I know. I’m cute.
Now, I sit in my apartment praying for this thunderstorm to actually happen. I hope it will wash some of the heat and humidity out of the air. We have a rule in the apartment–no AC until it’s 78 degrees in here. It’s only 76. I’m suffering. We’re cheap. Just out of college gals. We don’t have the extra money to be blowing on creature comforts like AIR CONDITIONING–that money is better spent on things like clothes and booze. At least we have our priorities in line.
If you don’t hear from me sometime soon, please alert the authorities and send them to my apartment–odds are I baked to death.