Once again, it is not even summer yet and I am already whining about the weather. Last year, we had a rather mild summer season and a refreshingly chilly winter. I was fairly sure that felicitous set of circumstances was not going to last. It has not.
This summer promises to be icky, sticky, ugly, and muggly. Meteorologists warn us that the season will be even hotter than it is most years. Living in central Florida will be more uncomfortable than living in Satan’s sinus cavities. The Farmers’ Almanac predicts a hurricane season that will huff and puff and blow our houses down. It all promises to be depressive and oppressive this year.
Typically, Florida boasts about 149 months a year of summer, give or take 3.7 months. When I first investigated Florida weather when planning a trip to Disney World, I read that “hurricane season” was considered from June through September. When I actually moved to Florida, I learned that I had been misinformed. Summer runs from May 1st through November 15th. Hurricane season is June 1st through October 31st. This may seem like an exaggeration, but this alarming duration is quite possible in Florida.
I get Seasonal Affective Disorder in the summer, the way some people get depressed in the winter when they do not see the sun for months at a time. For me, it is the sheer weight of the air fraught with humidity, the temperatures consistent with the idea that the world has a fever, the thunderstorms that suggest World War I is still raging, and the complete inability to plan or rely on trips out of the house because of rain. It is not uncommon to have to postpone fun trips to even indoor locations because the rain decreases driving visibility to about the distance from the tip of my nose to the point of my chin. Driving in Florida thunderstorms is a little like playing Blind Man’s Bluff going fifty miles an hour. Not the smartest idea.
The worst thing for me, though, is the sweat. I live with a perpetual layer of sticky all over my body from May to November. They say horses sweat, gentlemen perspire, and ladies glow. This lady does not glow. Glowing does not involve hair matted down with an overapplication of the natural hair gel known as perspiration. Glowing does not involve the inability to cross the room without stopping for a hydration break. Glowing does not involve multiple applications of deodorant a day. The last I heard, people who glow are not testy, cranky, and exhausted. Given the content of that last sentence, I am sure you agree that I am certainly not glowing. What I am is testy, cranky, and exhausted.
My sweet friend Kathleen has a different take on the muggy, sticky perspiration. I must agree that Kathleen does glow. It might be an evolutionary accommodation. She grew up in Florida. She tells me that sweating is good for me. The sweating process removes toxins from the body and is a key to good health. It is like exfoliating on the inside. I am willing to take her word for it. I do not need an annual demonstration. Especially when that demonstration apparently does not take my mood into consideration. Sweating might be terrific for my body, but it clearly does nothing good for my mental health. And for the record, I never heard anyone make a New Year’s resolution to sweat more.
Maybe my summer weather rant is out of my system. Considering we have about another 148 months of summer, I doubt it. Yes, I know I am being over-dramatic. I know I will not really burst into flames or drowned in my own secretions. I am going to try not to complain any more. Instead, I praise and thank God for air conditioning.
Heavy, all-consuming, suffocated, lethargic, exhausted sigh……
Please send popsicles!
What is the weather like where you are? Do you look forward to sunny skies and days by the beach or do you count the days until you will next feel a cool breeze? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.
Have a cool day!
Terri/Dorry 😊