It’s always hot in Savannah in August, but today was just plain ridiculous. I was standing outside having a rather lively conversation on the phone with a co-worker this afternoon when I felt something tickling both my elbows. I went to wipe away a bug, when I realized it was sweat. Running in rivers down my arms. Dripping off my elbows onto the concrete (I’m surprised it didn’t sizzle.) Disgusting. I was so engrossed in my debate over the phone I didn’t realize how incredibly hot it was.
Another co-worker came outside to talk to me as I hung up, and looked a little alarmed when he saw me. He grabbed my shoulder and started steering me toward the door, speaking to me in a tone usually reserved for a 98 year old grandmother who won’t follow directions. A little helpful, a lot condescending. “Don’t you think you should come inside? Let’s go inside now.”
I complied. It’s so freaking hot. Tomorrow’s heat index: 115. Time to go lie in bed under the fan and dream of November, when the temperature might finally dip below 4 thousand degrees.