The title is a nod to a friend who recently said that to me, and I responded with “You’d think it was July or something.” But, boy, is it hot out.
Now, I love the summer. It’s my favorite season. (I have a theory that the majority of people’s favorite seasons coincide with their birthdays.) Why on earth is summer my favorite season? Because I love being warm all the time. Winter is so brutal and painful for me. My joints don’t hurt as much or at all in the summer. I can get caught in the rain, and who cares? It’s summer! I can wear shorts and a tank top at any time day or night, and I’m not cold. I can walk barefoot outside. I don’t freeze to death after taking a shower. I don’t have to worry about ice or snow or driving in that crap (not that I drive much anywhere now). It’s so much easier for me to cool down than to warm up. I would be happy to live in a place where the highs were always at least in the 80s, and the lows never got below 60. (My friend and I always get in fun battles about the best season. She prefers fall. To her, I say: SUMMER RULZ!)
Really quickly: I am feeling fine today. I had bloodwork done yesterday, which totally wiped me out, and I ended up with a low fever. I think the combination of having blood taken and just being insanely stressed about going to a public health facility during a pandemic really just knocked me out yesterday.
I was well enough today to tackle some yard work, which was my exercise for the day. I trimmed some plants, spread some grass seed and did some other stuff, which took about an hour. Well, I thought it would be a grand idea to ALSO go for a walk after that. I walked about three houses down the road, and I could feel that heat exhaustion creeping up on me, and I noped right back home.
I learned my lesson about being careful in the heat a few years ago when I was living in Beaufort, S.C., where 100 percent humidity is the norm in the summer. The heat here is nothing compared to the heat in Beaufort. The temperatures at the two places would often be about the same, but that humidity. Oh, the humidity. But onto the lesson: So, the hottest temperature I ever experienced was in Beaufort. It was above 100 degrees, and the heat index made it feel like 123 degrees outside. And so, you know what I thought would be a grand idea? Fishing! Yeah, I went fishing in 123-degree heat. I was actually fine for a while. Then it hit just instantly. I knew I had to leave, but the car was SO FAR away. Every step I took, I thought “just a little further, just a little further.” Somehow, I did not pass out on the pier, and I made it to the car and cranked the air conditioning. I think I was knocking on the door of heat stroke. So, my word of advice is to not do what I did, which none of you probably need because who the heck — besides me — thinks “Oh, it’s 123 degrees, time to go fishing!” I learned my lesson and learned to watch for the signs of heat exhaustion and heat stroke.
In all fairness to Beaufort, it does not normally get THAT hot. And I loved living there because there were two months of the year when it was actually cold out (January and February), and I almost never had to worry about snow. (Almost never: One day I’ll tell you about the ice/snow storm of 2018, and how it brought Beaufort County to its knees.)
So, I shall spend the rest of the day inside. I have finally cooled down, so I’m going to go lift some weights now. Until next time!