Half Baked

Ucka. It's the dog days of summer, my friends. Hot and humid here in Texas. The air is so heavy that you get "intermittent afternoon showers", not because of some storm front that you can see coming a day away. But because the air gets so hot that it just can't hold the moisture any more. And that moisture is just hanging there. The ever present sweat mustache. The payload of sweat that soaks your hair the minute you leave the house. The sweat that breaks through the deodorant barrier, and makes that stick of Secret in your desk drawer your, and your co-worker's, best friend. Sweat, sweat, sweat.

Too hot to have fun. Too hot to stand still. Too hot to lie down. Too hot to be. Too hot to do anything but put on your scazziest t-shirt and cutoffs, drink iced tea and wish for it all to be over. Summer has worn out it's welcome. This isn't the "good old summertime." This is the summertime that you wish would just press on by. The summer that makes you dream of cool, autmn breezes and cloudy days.