So it has been hot enough here for the past few days to remind me of my old nemesis. It always comes in warm weather, and there is nothing I can do to avoid it.
I'm talking about sweat, people.
Yes, sweat. We all do it, not many of us like it. I hate it. Yes, yes, I know it is the body's natural way of cooling itself off when it is overheated, blah blah blah. That doesn't mean I have to like it. I know that the house being cleaned is a task that must occur, and I don't like that either.
I probably live in the wrong geographical area for a person who dislikes sweating. I should be living up North or something, but as luck would have it, I am here for the long run. I suppose I could be somewhere much much worse, such as Florida.
I will never forget our trip to Disneyworld. We planned it for October, foolishly thinking that the heat and humidity would be long gone by then. My life being my life, a freak heat wave struck unseasonably that year in mid-October. I would wake up in the hotel room, mercifully cooled by an efficient air conditioner. I would dress carefully, put my hair up, and open the door ready to begin the day's adventures. Within approximately three minutes, I was dripping and might as well not have bothered with the shower. I have absolutely no idea how people in areas with high humidity can stand living there.
Another bad thing is to be stuck in the sun at a baseball stadium. Now I know why the majority of games are played at night. Once at Dodger stadium we sat the entire game in the hot sun of July, with nary a breeze. I could feel the sweat sliding down my face, my back, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it. Sure, we would try and hang out where the concession stands were, but we had awesome seats, and wanted to actually watch the game.
When I was younger, I don't remember the art of sweating to have such an adverse effect on me. Perhaps I was in better shape, and my body cooled itself off without being totally obnoxious about it. Maybe I should go out and buy myself one of those hats with the fan inside. I wouldn't look too stupid, would I? If Hubba-hubba insists, I wouldn't mind walking a few steps behind, to save him from the embarassment. Even so, it just might be worth it.