That Muggy Feeling

The only thing you can do when it is 90-something and humid is seriously contemplate how to attach a medium sized fan to your shirt so wherever you go you look like a divalicious pop star, which is a small price to pay for a little bit of heavenly breeze.



I would kill to see some fog right now. I would shave my head for beach air. I would do bad things to bad people just to have AC in my room. I would rather live in the San Fernando Valley again and drive a car with leather and no AC than be surrounded by humidity.

Humidity kills. It does. It kills energy, patience, and comfort. Sure, you might lose water weight just by walking up three stairs and your skin might glow but goddamn if I am not covered in wet blankets all day long and have the stamina of a senior citizen.

Granted, it is not as bad as other parts of the country but you can be sure as hell I will never move to those places. New York is enough. And while the Bay Area lacked AC, it was unpleasant but doable.

Lacking AC out here is just-cruel and unusual. If I leave water in my room and drink it at 9pm, the glass is hot, the water is ready for a tea bag. My bed feels like it has just left a dryer. The hardwood floor is warm. Don't even think of boiling water in the kitchen or ever looking at the stove. You could dehydrate instantly.

For the love of God. I miss ya CA.