That’s hot.
And I loved every single degree of it, every single year I lived there. Once it gets to 110°, the only difference in higher temps is that the hot pads and oven mitts need to be twice as thick in order for one to open the car door and grip the steering wheel.
We’ve got 100° here, and have been having it, but the humidity is almost as high. I’m not liking it at ALL!
Good morning.
I have no idea why I’m up so early, but it seems my brain was anxious to engage in nonsensical thoughts about long ago and far away. Or maybe it was some unforeseeable future that couldn’t actually happen but is still worrisome.
May as well get up and start my letter to Charlie.