Summertime in Iowa May Kill Every Smother Sun

It happens every year. The smothering humidity of summer comes to my Iowa town and makes me want to hibernate until fall. I don't believe I am unique in my virulent dislike of summer. I am not a person who loves to sweat in the first place and having it as part of a daily regiment of activity is not a way to inspire movement from me. But Iowa humidity (and perhaps Midwestern humidity more generally) is its own special brand of hell.

A while ago when my wife Betsy and I lived in Corpus Christi, Texas, we had the Gulf Coast not far from where we lived and even on the most oppressive day of the year, there was a way to cool off (a whole ocean of ways to be exact). Iowa does not possess an ocean. It possesses lakes. But being inland and also because of algae blossom, it is not recommended to go in the water and there isn't much relief if you do. We have a friend who had a pontoon boat and it was a joy to putter around the lake on it, except in the super-humid hot months when your back is welded to the vinyl seatbacks. 

When it is like this, mowing the lawn or spending any kind of time in the outdoors is a big "no thank you" for me. It is like I form a debilitating cerebral heat rash and seek the comfort of our two window unit air conditioners and our very crowd noise sounding ceiling fans. In fact, I would be okay if the fans sounded like jet engines just as long as my balding pate isn't redolent with flop sweat for the next two and a half months or so. You heard me, I would rather be stone deaf as long as my skin is not as sticky as pulled taffy.

Each year, summer has a more and more devious plot to do me in. This summer, it was sneaky. We had an incredible June and, for a brief, interlude, I thought, maybe this pandemic has changed the climate for the better. Perhaps things will be okay after all. And then, socko, an overbearing wave of thundershowers rolls in and the next thing you know, humidity is hovering at the 200% level. It feels like I am in a combination steam drawer within a Nordic sauna and someone is pouring even more water on the rocks. 

In normal years, I would be looking forward to some brief respite in a cooler clime, but as things are sort of locked down, we are relegated to slowly going mad within the comfort of our home. While the tomatoes in the garden are getting giggly about their love of heat and humidity, we are boarding the crazy train. So, dear reader, if you learn of my demise, just know that it was caused by the murderous combination of social distancing aided by the smothering effects of summer. I will tell you summer used a pillow to do it. Enjoy the tomatoes, won't you?