ssǝɹddns ɹou ɹɐǝɟ ɹǝɥʇıǝu plnoʍ ʎʇǝıɔos ǝǝɹɟ ʎlnɹʇ ɐ ʇɐɥʇ ƃuıʇnɔolɯnɔɹıɔ suıɐʇuoɔ ǝʇıs sıɥʇ

Thursday, July 21, 2011

100 degrees or bust!

Well? Did we hit 100 degrees or not?

I sure hope so.

I listened to WILK all day today, and caller after caller after caller complained about the fact that the Mercury was fast approaching it's dizzying apogee, but they were all calling from the relative comfort and safety of their air-conditioned homes.

I can't feature that: bitching about something you're not participating in anyway. In fact, some parts of the country are enjoying rolling blackouts, with still other parts having been warned that blackouts are possible. So, apparently, the multitudes of folks with access to cooled air aren't sweltering all that much.

But you know how it works. They bitch when it's hot. They bitch when it's not. Basically, they just bitch a helluva lot.

Personally, I don't see what all of the convoluted fuss is about. The EMA folks, with nothing better to do while excitedly waiting for a disaster to get after, issued warning after warning about what to do, what not to do, where to do it and where not to. Meanwhile, a mocking WNEP meteorologist issued a "Squint Index" in response to the forecast of brilliantly sunny skies. 'Bout time somebody made some sense.

As for myself, yes, I work predominantly outdoors. And when the Mercury goes the way of a low altitude Earth orbit, I do notice. And that's about all I do.

No AC in the truck. No change in apparel. No girlie sunscreen. No goofy-looking head gear. No change to UV-20 eye wear. Pretty much, no nuthin'.

Save for the larger cooler, more ice and the bigger cache of Gatorade, weather is weather, work is work, and I ain't got an interest in being worked into a frenzied panic all of the time.

It was freaking hot today. Real hot. Big whoop!

Sam's Club gives up a case of Gatorade for $12.88 a case. There you go. That's all you need, and all you need to know.

I was working outside all day Wednesday. I was toiling away outside all day today. And I'll be banging away outdoors all day tomorrow. And when Saturday arrives, I'll be itching to fire up one of the mountain bikes and go. Thing is, the weather doesn't mean much to me, nor does it affect my plans very often.

And as far as I'm concerned, I'm just doing what I always did. When I was a kid, I yearned for Summer and the adventures it typically brought along with it. And now that I'm a wrinkling Walter Brennan lookalike, I still yearn for Summer and the adventures it typically brings along with it.

I guess I'm just a really old looking kid at heart. And I'm wondering when the rest of the kids on the block decided to make like old folks ruled by their perceived vulnerabilities. Ah, I figure it doesn't matter none too much.

As for tomorrow, I say, "100 degrees or bust!" I want my "I was there" sense of accomplishment when we set a new record. Bring it on!

Somebody has got to keep the wheels of commerce slowly rolling while damn near all of Amerika prays to the almighty central air unit.


1 comment:

JimboBillyBob said...

Any weather I don't have to shovel is wonderful weather indeed. Toast me. Roast me. Long love that big ball of hydrogen a mere 93 million miles away. It'll be too hot only if my hair catches fire when I'm out for my lunchtime walk.

This has nothing to do with getting older.

Now where's my sweater...