For some reason, I've always had it in my mind that August is generally the hottest month of the year.
Because coming into today, we've already had something close to 40 days in the 90s this year. Basically, we've already had a month of 90s. And it's only August 2.
The air is constantly running in our house, even though the thermostat is hanging by its fingernails on a barely comfortable 75. Consequently, I feel like I'm moving in slow motion, trying to conserve my cool. I guess we all are.
All of which makes me curious about the joggers that painfully trot past my house each day. Jogging is a great way to initiate and maintain weight loss, but I can't see where jogging in the relentless 90-degree heat resembles anything healthy.
But I guess you get acclimated to it.
I used to play golf in weather like this. And I walked the course, too, carrying 30 pounds of clubs, balls, insect repellent, water and scorecards in my bag. At the time, I thought I was doing myself some good. Now, from the view of my air conditioned house, I see how nuts that was.
I'd come home exhausted and drained, and would feel that way for days. Then I'd go play another round of golf.
I'm older and wiser now. I don't jog. I don't play golf when the temperature could reflect the number on my scorecard.
One way I've found to beat the heat is to satisfy my ice cream habit. Yeah, I know. Ice cream likely clogs my arteries and plays havoc with my lactose intolerance, but when it's 90 degrees outside, all that becomes a moot (toot?) point.
It's even too hot to write intelligently. I started this blog post at 7 a.m. today, and look where I am.
Here's the best bet: See you next week.