Two days ago, it was 55 degrees and rainy during the day. Today, the mercury hit 90 with about 115 percent humidity. Sweltering. I love it. I really do. I enjoy the heat. The past couple summers have been unusually wet and cool, with one of those years culminating in a 500-year flood.
The one thing I can't stomach: bugs. And it doesn't even have to be the kind that sting or bite or lay putred eggs in roadkill. I'm talking the worst of the worst -- gnats. They buzz and flit and fly in ears and clomp around on the scalp showing where my hair is parted. When I ride my bike, they lodge themselves in my teeth and tonsils, forcing me to ride with my mouth pursed shut. Which doesn't help anything because then they just get diverted and take a ride up my sinus cavity. I spend more time spitting and sputtering than actually breathing aerobically.
We bought a citronella candle tonight. I lit it and sat outside on the deck, reading my Nook, and it did seem to keep most of the mosquitoes at bay. But those persistent, dive-bombing gnats gnever let up.
I think our seasonal spring days are over. We're looking at summery high temps for the foreseeable future. We have all the ceiling fans going, the windows open, and the summer bedtime attire ready: tank tops and boxers. Now we just need to find some bug netting and a gallon-size can of Deep Woods Off.
At this point, I'd settle for Suburban Backyard Off. Gnasty. Or is it Gnatsty?