Like An Armpit

That dripping sound you hear is the sound of me, sweating. Welcome to southern Ontario in July, folks. It’s 10:30 am and already it’s 29 degrees — 38 with humidex.

THIRTY EIGHT. At 10:30 in the effing morning. It’s exactly like the Caribbean. Only without the tropical charm and the beautiful beaches and the tradewinds and the rum punch.

Okay, so it’s almost, but not quite, entirely unlike the Caribbean. (Thank you, Douglas Adams.)

Walk outside, and it’s actually very much like you’re standing in someone’s armpit. It’s warm, uncomfortably humid, and the air quality is bad.

We’re under air quality advisories here. The air will be thick with humidity and smoggy crapola. And that means Asthma Mom is staying indoors, and, by extension, That Baby is stuck indoors too.

It’s fine, I think. She’s not terribly fond of the heat. She prefers to be cool. She has done, since the day we met her. In our hotel, on that first day, she was never so happy as when she was stripped down to a onesie and wiggling around under the air conditioning vent. Even to this day, she will go over and lie down on the air vents when the A/C is on. So being outdoors and playing in this weather is not her idea of a good time.

And I am okay with that. Really.

I grew up with a pool, as did BDH, and we both miss it. And for many years as adults, we had access to a cottage on a lake, which (despite my fear of fish) was also lovely. Just getting into the water on a very hot, humid day is a luxury we both wish we still had access to. It’s tempting, on such days, to go out and sit with Stinkerbelle in her blow-up paddling pool.

But we don’t. We’ll stay indoors, doing our errands only until around 10 am, and enjoy the air conditioning until the sun moves around the house and there’s some shade in the back yard. And then after naptime, we may go out and play in the water from the hose or splash in the paddling pool. I’ll sit in the shade and That Baby will run only in the shady parts of the lawn, and we’ll maybe invite the kids across the street and their asthmatic mom to come over and keep cool, too.

It looks like a scorching, humid week. So, this routine will continue, until storms or a cold front blow in and offer some relief. Or not.

My money is on not.

But if relief does not come, I’ll be scouring the internet for a good recipe for rum punch. Or some fruity girly drink with an umbrella in it.