You are stifling and humid and sticky today. My hair adheres to the back of my neck and every limb must have it’s own space, for fear of the discomfort when the time comes to separate them. So I escape to the basement for the majority of the day, where the air is cooler– but even then a fan is needed. I drink gallons of lemonade and eat as many popsicles as suits my weary self. I languish and lie around; exertion of any sort makes me a sweaty mess.
I don’t like being lazy July. Could you ask August to keep it some degrees cooler? It would be so kind of you.
Oh, I am not eager for you to end. In fact, I’m a little sad that our time is rapidly ending. But our times have been grand, and I am already excited for next year. Maybe then you’ll cool off a bit.