Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Is it Fall Yet?

The word for the day is: "Muggy."

-- when the humidity is 90-100%, and it's not raining, you understand muggy.

-- when you pray that it DOESN'T rain because it will just make it worse, you understand muggy.

-- when you'd rather trade 120* dry summers for 90* and high humidity, you understand muggy.

-- when standing in the shade is just as miserable as standing out in the sun, you understand muggy.

-- when you sweat buckets and the sun doesn't dry any of it, you understand muggy.

-- when everything, including air, sticks to you, you understand muggy.

-- when you walk outside and your glasses steam up, only, your clothing is suddenly too drenched to wipe them off, you understand muggy.

-- when your cig breaks at work take twice as long because the damn thing won't burn, you understand muggy.

-- when even your water bottle looks up at you with a white flag of surrender and says "Dude, I'm going back inside," you understand muggy.

-- when your white flag of surrender refuses to wave because it has absorbed all the water it can hold and then some . . . you understand muggy.

-- when you dry yourself from the shower at seven in the morning and the towel is still wet or at least damp at 10 that night, you understand muggy.

It's just now May. It is almost 94* outside. Even the yellowjackets are on strike.

Man, is it Fall yet?

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