This morning, the temperature was cool and the sky cloudy. After midday, the sun burned off cloud cover and humidity moved in. People complained about the heat and dense air. But you know what I don’t miss? Freaking snow.
Sorry, winter people. The worst day of summer is better than the best day of winter.
Oh my gawd, yes. Years ago I developed a theory about how to know where to live. If, during the best part of the year, you can only dread the coming bad part, you shouldn’t live in that climate. If, on the other hand, the bad weather always comes as a surprise, that’s where you should be. For example, I was tubing down a river in the Catskills during high summer, thinking, Yup. Twelve weeks till it snows. On the other hand, every single summer here in Florida, I am bound at some point to ask “Really? Was it this hot last year, ’cause I don’t remember.”