I don’t like really hot weather, not that I was happy with the soggy chilly spring weather, either.
The sudden turn to hot and humid makes me grouchy when I sit with my morning coffee and hear the weatherman or weatherwoman on my TV telling me it’s going to be in the 90s with the relative humidity in the oppressive zone. This is a bad enough way to start my day, but then they have to tell me that according to the heat index, it’s going to feel like its 102 degrees.
Just what the heck is the heat index and who thought it up, and better yet — who needs it? I’ll bet it was the same person who came up with the wind chill factor. It seems to have gained great popularity here in the Northeast and I guess they’re hoping the heat index will take off, too.
It’s bad enough to have to get out of a nice warm bed and stare through a layer of frost at the outside thermometer and see a reading of 12 below zero without having some perpetually cheerful weatherperson chirping about the fact that with the wind chill, it feels like it’s 45 below zero and you’d better bundle up.
I guess maybe it is a good thing after all, if they didn’t tell me to bundle up and I saw the thermometer at 12 below zero and didn’t know the wind chill factor, I just might have wandered outside in my skivvies and caught a bad case of the sniffles.
This heat index thing is about as useful. When I awake in the morning and peel the damp sheet off my glistening body, take a shower, towel off and find that I’m still soaking wet and realize the panting noise I hear is coming from me, I start to get the idea that it’s hot out. Looking at the thermometer tells me how hot it is, I don’t really want to know how hot it feels like because that’ll just make me feel hotter.
I find the older I get, the narrower my comfort band becomes. I’m not really fond of weather extremes anymore. I’ve tried to convince the National Weather Bureau to keep the thermostat set somewhere in the 70 to 75 degree range and they can forget the humidity, thank you very much.
They don’t seem to be listening in spite of the fact that they are supported by my tax dollars and I’m an AARP member who votes. I’ve sent them several very good suggestions over the years and have yet to hear from them. Most were very constructive and would have helped them greatly, like the time I suggested that if they put a window in the room they did their forecasting from, it would likely improve their accuracy.
I still haven’t heard from them. I guess I shouldn’t have high expectations from a group who are wrong about 80% of the time and still keep their jobs.
I’ve decided that since it’s so hot, I prefer cold weather if we have to have extremes in temperatures. I can always put on more clothing to help remedy the problem.
I can only take off so much clothing before I start running into trouble with the law, the Queen and the neighbors. A chubby, bald senior citizen in a Speedo can be traumatizing for small children and pets. How come there are so many of them out there on public beaches and pools, you may ask? I think it’s because we all get grouchy when we’re sticky, and at our age we have no more pride or fashion sense when we’re uncomfortable. Comfort reigns supreme!
Maybe we should stop these atrocities and all write, email or call the National Weather Bureau. Maybe they’ll listen. If they don’t, grab your Speedo and let’s go picket them!
Thought for the week — Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance!
Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well.
Reach Dick Brooks at Whittle12124@yahoo.com.