First off, I apologize. I took off for Arizona with my better half on the day of the big storm—let me rephrase that—on the day of the BIG storm. Thought I would post while on the road using my fancy new iPad. The truth is, I’m one of those writers who need quiet and routine to write. Kicking my spouse out of our hotel room during our romantic—well, after 23 years of marriage, perhaps I should rephrase that too—our sort-of romantic get-away, just didn’t seem right. However, I did continue to ponder. The result is the following ditty, which you’ll notice is vacation influenced.
WHY do I hate being outside on a hot, sticky, steamy day and yet love sitting in a steam room at a fancy spa? I’m not exaggerating when I use the words hate and love. On a scale of one to ten, where one is hate and ten is love, humid weather is a one and a steam room is a ten.
Anyway, the answer to me is obvious. Have you guess it? It’s the clothes. And the makeup… and the hair, of course. On hot humid days, if it was tradition to hop outside in the buff and strut around enjoying the full effect of toxins pouring out our pores, and perhaps shedding a few extra pounds, I’d probably move south and soak up as much humidity as possible. But alas, humid days for me mean my doo dies, my face smears and my clothes begin to stink. I guess for now I’ll pay to enjoy my humidity in the nude.
To my readers (and you know who you both are) I’ll ask this question: can you think of other situations in life, which are the same… but not the same? I look forward to reading your comments.