Humidity

Humidity.  What can I say?  The word strikes fear into the heart of curly haired people everywhere.  My hair is stick straight however so I have no reason to fret over my coiffure but I have another reason to whine: no central air.  The temperature in Iowa generally is mild compared to other places, like say, oh, Phoenix, Arizona where today it’s a balmy 107F.  In Iowa it’s currently 85F but there’s no relief from the comparably mild temperature.  The humidity over the summer is enough to make me cry.   I’m not quite sure how I’d know I was actually crying.  Tears would have to compete with the sweat already pouring down my face.  I’d wipe my face off but the towels are saturated with moisture from the air.  I’d drown my worries in a bag of potato chips but if they’re open for more than about fifteen seconds, they become limp and mushy.

I’m not the only one who is suffering either.  The toilet is dripping–no, weeping with condensation.  That poor porcelain is sure sad today.  The fridge sheds a few tears each time I open his door.  And the cellar!  The humidity makes moisture seep through the cinder blocks (I can see why the original builders used rock–not much gets through them and it’s sure sturdy).