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  • Kate Forest

Some Like it Hot and Humid

If you’ve read any of my previous posts you will know how much I loathe temperatures below 50. It’s not just that I don’t like the cold. Cold is pain. Cold is bulky sweaters. Cold is evil. Hell isn’t hot, Hell is an icy wind.

Me going to grocery store in January:

And people always say, but you’ll start complaining when it gets too hot. No I won’t. It never gets too hot. I can count ONE time I felt too hot. I was traveling in India in May (their hottest month when not a single tourist is around). I contracted Delhi Belly (let’s not discuss the details) and had to board a train in Agra.

It was 120 degrees in the shade, I was dehydrated from the details not discussed above. I paid the extra 75 cents for the air conditioned car of the train. But guess what, they don’t run the air conditioning while the train idles in the station. This makes good eco sense. But bad sense for dehydrated humans.

I got on the train, ready to find my seat and put my head back. But about half way down the aisle, I fainted dead. A nice family picked me up, bought me some water, and I stood on the platform until we were ready to go.

That is the ONLY time I have ever felt too hot. And if someone says “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity” I will smack them with my clammy hand. Humidity is great, it makes the warmth hang on you like a blanket. Even cozier than dry heat which makes your skin turn to dust.

Dog days of summer sound fabulous to me. I love dogs and I love summer. (Hazel the corgi does not enjoy the heat, having been bread for the Welsh moors.)

Not my dog:

You won’t hear me complaining about the temps or the humidity. I’m basking, trying to store it all up for those nasty sweater weather months starting in October. Yuck.

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