From the Archive of Retort
Original Post 6/2/11
Under the category of the more things change, the more they stay the same, here's one from a couple of Junes ago.
You might have noticed it over the weekend, but probably not.
It arrived when you weren’t looking.
Maybe, after a stroll through the park. Perhaps, after you had mowed the lawn, or planted your one thousandth and final flat of marigolds.
You didn’t see it coming. No one did; it’s sneaky that way. It doesn’t like to announce itself. It wants you to believe it’s always been here, and always will be here.
What am I taking about?
I’m talking about….
The scourge of summer, unofficial or not….
That invisible damp, clinging, sultry, blanket of…
The one clammy, sodden, thing… that unites us as one.
The one soggy, oppressive thing that everyone agrees on; singles out and blames.
“It’s not the heat…it’s the…
Dripping, drooping, draining….
You noticed it the morning when you found the bed sheet wrapped around and pasted to your body, which required several minutes of peeling and unraveling.
You noticed it while you were chatting with your neighbor and suddenly realized you had changed your shirt 3 times during the conversation….
You noticed it when you walked away and found a flock of robins frolicking in the puddle you left behind….
You noticed it when the de-humidifier kicked on every time you passed by.…
And then, as if additional proof was required, the unmistakable, foreboding sounds exploding from every household on the block. Sacroiliacs snapping…hamstrings popping …rotator cuffs unraveling, as throughout the land air conditioners and fans were dragged from attic, closet and garage, hoisted into windows, set, sealed and put to the task of delivering us from perspiration without end.
The humidity's gone?
We thought it would never arrive.