... including parts of my body, which have swollen to three times their normal size since I landed. Relax; I refer to my ear canals.
For the first time since 1980, I'm in Houston, Texas. Of course it's for a wedding, and of course it's not mine. (Always a bridesmaid, or the male equivalent.) The humidity is relentless, and exactly how I left it. Even with a decent amount of sleep, I'm still dizzy and tired.
Without personal, air-conditioned bubbles, I don't understand how people can live like this. We're not mosquitoes. At least not yet.
More later, if I survive the long weekend.
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6 comments:
you have my sympathies.
the armpit of America...
Last time I was in Houston, it was for a wedding.
Wonder if you'll see more dead armadillos than I saw...
Though it's been cloudier and rainier than the typical Oregon August (oh, CRUD, it's September 3rd already...I must go and weep), I have to say, I did not for a MOMENT miss New York's sweltering, stinky, slippery Augusts. Okay...sometimes those late afternoon thundershowers that swept across Manhattan were exciting and beautiful, especially from my office window on the 20th floor overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge. But more often, the downpour -- and, despite all of Oregon's famous rain, I don't think Oregonians know what a DOWNPOUR is -- happened precisely 20 seconds after I'd leave work. That was less fun. Wait...how did I get on this topic? Senator Craig? No...oh, humidity. Yeah. Boo. Yay Oregon.
Andy: So right. The East Coast is for suckers (and Senators). Oregon rocks.
APL: I saw roadkill, but no exoskeletons. Lucky me.
K-Lyn: Indeed. My armpits cried all weekend.
Quinn: Thanks. Did you know that even though two of my friends lived there for years, I'd never bother visiting them? That's the power of Houston.
suckers (and Senators)
Apparently those terms are no longer mutually exclusive.
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