And now that we're back in it, that humidity is undeniable. And it doesn't get much more moisture-prone than our native North American climate, in a basement, with no dehumidifier handy. Doors have swelled in their jambs and won't shut. Baseboards are curving away from walls like a caterpillar in mid-hunch. Glasses bead with sweat the minute they're filled with anything cooler than room temperature. Salt and sugar, even in their snug tins, clump together in chunks. And we have entered the ritual of two cold showers a day- sometimes three. We move the box fan from room to room with us. We find Toby sprawled on the cool slate tile in the dark bathroom. We exert minimal energy. We sweat anyway.
And even when Denver was broiling away during the day (a mile closer to the sun means you are bound to get a wee bit sweatier!), the chill of high-altitude nights was a gift. The worst of the heat always left with the sun, and on the good nights a breeze followed. Sometimes the wet wool blanket of humidity feels like it's trapping the heat and holding it to the ground, wrestler-style, and even after the sun goes down the relief is minimal.
Is it any wonder that after growing up in this sort of environment, autumn is my favorite season (one that is just not the same in the eastern suburbs of Denver- THAT I am not backing down on)?
One thing that has been helping that I've never tried before this summer is watermelon juice, with a splash of gin and a slice of lime (or as my husband has named it, 'watermelgin juice!'). But it is so, so refreshing.
Watermelgin juice and box fans are our best friends these days, when all we can do is lie low and wait it out.
