August is not a month I enjoy. I've tried to acclimate, I really have. Last summer I kept nudging the thermostat up, trying to take it a degree or two warmer. I hit the wall at seventy-four. At seventy-four degrees, I can function. At seventy-five, I start to melt. I know you southerners are snorting in your sweet tea, but that's as far as I'm willing to go.
This makes spending time outside a little tricky this time of year. Usually we abandon the breakfast dishes and head straight outside. At ten o'clock my internal thermometer starts setting off alarms and we can come in and clean up then.
After a week of very hot, still, muggy weather, though, even the early morning air wasn't worth the bother of breathing today. Every exhaust fume from every morning commuter still lingered in the air. I went out and got the wading pool and we set it up in the basement, where it stayed below seventy-five all morning.
Only four more weeks to September.