When I went out at 10 p.m. last night to walk the dog on our evening constitutional, my phone told me it was 90 degrees with 95% humidity. I didn’t catch the “Feels like” temperature estimate below that data because my head was by then lolling down around my navel somewhere as I prepared to drop down to all fours.
My intention was to see if I could clear a path through what felt like thick, suffocating butter so my dog could follow in my wake and we could stagger safely back to our air-conditioned house, despite the threat of a heart attack which could easily ensue from the shock of crossing the threshold from the hotbox on one side to the icebox on the other.
And you know something else?
I really, really love living in North Carolina, and am very glad I came (a year ago as of September 1).
And some of that love has to do with the weather.
***
***
See that snowman at the top of this post? It was not 90 de...
Read More
Recent Comments