Dancing in my bones

Photo by Sakeeb via Creative Commons

It’s hot around here. Not only do we have the heat, but also we have the humidity. I hate humidity.

Oh, sure, the curly-haired people love the humidity. It makes their hair all fluffy and fabulous. The baldies bask in it. But me? Not so much. Humidity for me means limp, frizzy hair, excessive sweating, sticky floors, tacky-feeling furniture, damp bedding and moldy bathrooms.
Humidity makes me mean.
As a child I used to fantasize that I could peel off my skin and go dancing in my bones.
While all you winter haters bitch and moan when the arctic winds howl and the mercury dips low in the bulb, I’m dancing the happy dance. You can layer clothing in the cold, people. You can turn up the furnace, build a fire, sip tea or hot cocoa. When it gets this hot, there are only so many layers to peel. Iced drinks last maybe five minutes. Forget ice cream. It’s liquified before you can finish the first scoop.   Degree Clinical Protection Anti-Perspirant and hair clips are my best friends right now.

We do not have central air-conditioning. We have window units. They work really well if you grab them in a love embrace.

Heat and humidity make me lazy. I’ve spent the last week sitting on the couch making out with the air conditioner. When I get up, after the head-rush dissipates, I accomplish maybe 25 percent of any given task before retreating to the couch again to cool off. Don’t even ask about cooking in the kitchen.

My girls do not sleep well in this heat. Both of them awaken cranky and sweaty, complaining that the AC isn’t cold enough, that the ceiling fans are only blowing hot air around.
Today I jumped from the chilled shadows of the coffee shop to the cool canyons of the public library, avoiding my house until the sun began its slide toward the horizon. In between stops, I laid on the AC vents in my car and guzzled bottled water. I’m trying to avoid feeling guilty. So much awaits at home: mildewy laundry, a virtually empty refrigerator, a yard of mulch at the foot of our driveway, a weedy garden, and a pile of paperwork big enough to scare away a tax accountant. It will all have to wait for a cold front to pass through this area.

Meanwhile, I’m still trying to figure out how to bare my bones.

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