For the past week or so, Charm City has been hit by the same heat wave that has been terrorizing a huge chunk of the country. With highs in the upper 90s, heat indexes of 105 or higher, and relative humidities of 60, 70, 80%, it has been absolutely miserable here. And despite working in an office that seems to get colder the hotter it is outside, I have been hard pressed to keep from flashing back to the alarmingly large part of my childhood that was spent heat sick in Southern Arizona.
It is ironic now to see me shunning sunlight in the middle of July when I would practically kill to get some of it’s warmth and Vitamin D in the pit of January. Readers in the know are well acquainted with my dislike for weather most of the year. It’s safe to say that if you can name a season, I can probably regale you with several reasons why I dislike it. Even the times of year I actually look forward to are tainted by their proximity to the seasons I despise. I long for fall color in July, but then spend all my time walking through October’s red and yellow drifts of leaves preemptively shivering over the February winds to come. Since moving to the East Coast six years ago, I have learned to fear and loath Winter with a fiery passion that is the only thing that can keep me warm in the depths of its icy grip.
But nothing, nothing can erase my in-grown, nurtured-from-birth, unholy hatred of summer. It doesn’t even matter that the heat wave currently holding my current city of residence captive will roll away on the crest of low pressure system within the next few days. Or that for the most part summer in Charm City hardly even be compared to August in the Old Pueblo. It is hot and humid here now, therefore a little voice at the back of my head is constantly screaming doom and gloom to the rest of my psyche. It is unreasonable. It is silly and childish. And ultimately my struggle against an entire season is futile. I know this. But I just can’t shake that icky feeling of resentment for a climate that includes things like heat indexes, code orange air pollution warnings, and the dreaded beast known as humidity.
All last fall and winter, I kept focusing on the sun. I posted pictures of sunlight filtering through leafy trees and pushed myself to walk outside in freezing weather to soak up every little bit of goodness from the sun’s weak rays. I truly longed for sunny days and warm weather and I have tried to keep that feeling foremost in my mind. It is unhealthy to make yourself crazy all the time. Constantly longing for something else instead of appreciating what you have is the best way to live an unhappy life. And I think I was actually doing pretty well this year. I even survived a week in the suffocatingly humid blanket that is Orlando in July without throwing a hissy fit about it. But this week has sorely been trying my patience.
And to top it all off, I have once again discovered that my subconscious is a bastard with a wicked sense of humor because I keep finding myself humming It Must Be Summer by Fountains of Wayne. Go figure.
Just a Song Away 