Friday, July 17, 2015

Not Afraid to Complain

                So it’s a hot Friday rolling into a potentially melty face weekend and we’re all super excited about it. Well I, for one, am not. I am a heavy sweater. That doesn’t mean I am made out of wool and keep you cozy during the winter, it means I sweat a lot when the temperature gets above 73 degrees.  I’m not sure where this particular aversion to heat came from; most likely my Irish heritage has something to do with my absolute displeasure with extremely warm environs.  I just start to sweat thinking about how warm it’s going to be. This is not a great way to impress women or be the man that men want to be.
                I get too hot very fast and it’s very annoying. I’ve always been that kid on the Little League field wiping the sweat out of his eyes as that one easily catchable pop fly sails over my head. The whole crowd yells for me to pay attention but I can’t because the sweaty salt is burning my eyes. Plus I needed glasses back then and I probably wouldn’t have been able to catch the damn ball even on a 50 degree day. Yet, I blame the sweat in my eyes. Headbands, hatbands, all were useless in the prevention of sweat just pouring down my face and dripping off my chin.
                It’s not like I’m terribly overweight or incapable to physical activity. I do quite a lot of movement. (Seriously, I do. Just because you haven’t personally witnessed it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I’ve never SEEN you have a kid but I’m sure you have one or two or I know you work but I’ve never SEEN you working.) So I can’t imagine why I’d sweat so profusely when the mercury hits anything over 73 degrees. I’m just a sopping wet mess of man, dripping and sloshing, red faced and dying for the cool breezes I know I desperately need before my brain cooks in my own skull. 
                I’m reminded of the poor people of Pompeii that attempted to shelter themselves from the exploding volcano by hiding in the seaside boat houses. The heat was so intense from the volcano that their brains cooked and exploded out of their skulls. Really! It’s true. Skulls have been found showing they burst from the inside. It’s completely gross and I fully expect to die that way every summer when the humidity and heat rolls in.
                It’s my fate to just be too hot.  I live in the Mid-West where the humidity can climb to impossible levels of dampness and not rain. I’m sure I’ve seen weather reports wherein they report 98% moisture in the air but it just won’t rain. I mean, that’s like walking through a lake of water molecules.  It’s all vapor and gross. Plus there’s all the heat from the concrete jungle I live in. There’s almost no un-air conditioned escape available. I mean really, what good is a shade tree when the humidity makes it feel like it is 105 degrees outside. That’s not cool Earth, not cool. Literally, not cool.
                I really like summer though. I enjoy shorts and short-sleeved shirts. I like sitting outside with friends and strangers and acquaintances, having a cold libation, laughing at the incredible annoyances of life on planet Earth. I enjoy the hell out of that; unless I’m sweating the whole time. I’m surprised I don’t have a nick-name like, “Waterfall Mike”, or, “Old Sloshy”, given to me by those that have to bear witness to the Niagara Falls that is my summertime embodiment.  
                Shirts don’t stand a chance. I destroy most of them through copious perspiration before most people have had their breakfast. I certainly just can’t take the shirt off either. My white skin is far too delicate for direct exposure to sunlight. I won’t even go to the beach for fear of blinding everyone around me for seven miles. I’m pretty sure they can see me from space. It’s a national Security issue I’m sure. So I just don’t bother. I’m sure my incredible physique has something to do with my disinterest in beach going as well. I heard a good description of a human body last night that I think is terribly apt for me. My whole body is rather thumb shaped. That’s not to say I don’t have arms and legs a sweaty head, but the general idea I get about my body is its thumbness.  I’m not fat, but I’m certainly not ripped like some Hollywood super man.
                I don’t like pools very much either. I risk sunburn even with SPF 490K. Plus, I’m much too warm to add to the primordial soup that is a backyard pool.  I feel like the water temperature goes up instead of going down when I get in the water. I’m like that water heater thing that plugs in to an outlet and then there’s a metal coil on the other end that goes into a coffee mug and heats up the water. That’s me. A thumb shaped metal coil heating up the pool water so some giant can make coffee.  I’m sure he’d spit it out too since it’d be so damn salty. 
                So if you really need to find me this hot and humid weekend. I think it would be your best bet to find me basking in the miracle of Air Conditioning as often as possible with a cool drink in my hand. I might still be sweating a little but I will certainly be closer to cooling off to a normal human temperature. I promise I won’t hug you, until I’m dry.

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