I don't know if it's age or self-awareness, but I can't remember suffering in the sticky sweltering heat we've had this summer. And I know it's not the hottest it's ever been. I think I'm less tolerant of dripping sweat just taking the groceries in from the car. Or folding a load of laundry. Or cooking a half dozen scrambled eggs.
If I put my mind to it, I can recall days in my long-ago youth when I would work up a sweat toweling off after a shower. I suppose that now I get pissed off about it whereas back then I just didn't care as much. Which is odd, I think. You would guess that a pre-teen would care more than an old married gal. Logically, I have no one left to impress (sorry LSH! You're lucky I'm shaving my legs.) but back then I -like, totally- cared about what anyone thought, even if I didn't like the person.
At any rate, I'm falling back on the "it's my Nordic blood" reasoning. I can now see the appeal of Minnesota over Ohio for summertime. I'm guessing there aren't a lot of Norwegians south of the Mason-Dixon Line. It's probably why Leif Erikson and his crew abandoned L'Anse aux Meadows: summer was just too warm.
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*title courtesy of Mental_Floss
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