It's Too Damn Hot.
It's only 88 degrees in San Antonio, but the humidity is at 53 percent.
Any humidity more than 50 percent is cloying, exhausting and crazy-making.
My house and car stay around a comfy 70 degrees, but getting to and from them is like stepping into a sauna.
Any little task, from taking out the trash to bringing in groceries results in profuse sweating, damp clothes and massive irritability.
As it is I tend to get easily annoyed, but on humid days like this my fuse is about 1/8th of an inch long.
This weather is like wearing a hair shirt while locked in a parked car with the windows up in a Walmart parking lot.
I've been thinking how miserable it must be to be working along the Gulf Coast, picking up oil patties and saturated birds and turtles in the hot sun and humidity.
I'm thrilled that Obama has strong-armed BP into putting $20 billion in an escrow account. People like Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann are balking at the idea, proving once and for all whose side they're on.
Bitches like that are even harder to tolerate when I'm hot and sweaty.
The only good thing about this time of year is the ready availability of cherries and watermelon, not to mention friends who have swimming pools.
Otherwise, Summer can shove it.