Current heat index is 95°.

It’s 5pm, and it’s the end of September.

I’m. Over. The. Heat.

I am not a hot weather person. I love seasons, and fall is my favorite. I like winter. I like spring. I don’t enjoy summer.

I live in the sweltering south.

My children and family are largely located in this hell hole now, so I’ve been trying to make my peace with the heat.

It’s not working.

Now, to add to my misery, I’ve been diagnosed with type one diabetes, and the heat literally messes with my blood sugar.

Nothing would make me happier than to move. North. Out of the south.

We talk of retiring in Kentucky, and that still counts as south, and they have seasons.

I also have grandsons now. I don’t like being far away from them. I have learned this the hard way from the child who married the Air Force. Those grandkids are way up in the Midwest. No bueno.

Meanwhile, it’s too hot to breathe outside. If I want to walk the dog, I have to go early or late in the day, lest I cook her pads off her feet. When I try to exercise, I am drenched in sweat five minutes after I exit my well air conditioned house. I come home covered in gnats.

Deep sigh.

I hate hot weather.