There are cold-weather people and hot-weather people and these past few days have convinced me that I am most assuredly a cold-weather person. Dear God it's hot!
We took the boys to the pool for a bit late yesterday afternoon. (What else is there to do but close up in A/C or swim?) Although we spent much of the time in the water, it was still scorching. "I'm frying like a toasted cheeser," said Ryan in an homage to Hamm in the movie, "The Sandlot." Even the pool water was not nearly refreshing enough having baked in the sun for so many days.
I came home and did something I've not done since high school. After getting cleaned up I laid on my bed for just a minute and was out cold. I woke up for a bit at 9:30 and then went right back to bed at 10. I had trouble pulling myself out of bed at 8:15 this morning. That's the effect this heat produces in me. I'm visibly wilting in the heat.
Don't get me wrong, I hate freezing cold just as much as the next Clevelander, but I'd rather feel invigorated by the cold than fuzzy and lethargic from heat. This afternoon will not involve a trip to the pool, but rather to Dick's Sporting Goods to buy backpacks and football cleats. Ahh, now fall is something I can get energized about.
As my Dad always says: "This, too, shall pass."