Nasty weather here in (un)lovely uptown Phoenix: hot and wet!
No, it’s not raining (yet). As we scribble by the 8:30 light of a stuffy dawn, the back porch thermometer registers a balmy 90 degrees. But Wunderground predicts a high of 108 — ah, lovely! Humidity: a mere 12%.
Things could be worse, as we well know. But still…it makes Prescott look damn good. San Francisco looks even better.
Hey! I can’t complain. We do not get snow here! Very rarely even a few minutes of hail. I’ll take a 108 degree day in trade for 32 degrees…any time!
Interestingly, when it’s customarily this hot, 12 percent humidity seems downright soggy. And that’s the case today: yep, t feels downright soggy out there!
By 7:30 the he hound and I had circumnavigated the neighborhood’s spacious local park — a stroll of bout two miles, I’d estimate. Ruby will take a doggy-walk over a loafing human, no matter what the heat or humidity.
Once again, some A-hole jangled me out of bed before 7:00 this morning, trying to subject me to a telephone sales pitch. I told him where to shove it, as I always do. That doesn’t seem to affect the jerks. Need to get a whistle or an air-horn to blast the ba*tards with.
We’re told most of those jerks are prison inmates. Apparently, nuisance phone solicitation is a prison industry. And where, exactly, are our legislators who could put a stop to that shenanigan?
Why the Hell not give these guys jobs they can do when they get out of the slam? Jobs that don’t infringe on anyone else’s privacy or business? Or…I dunno…just teach them to get better at burgling, so they have a better shot at staying out of the slam…
<<swishroar!>>
Watering system comes on automatically…odd time for it to turn on: 9:00 a.m. It normally turns on around 7:00…or sooner. Hmmm.
Ruby comes racing out of the back, demanding to go out and investigate the noise. Open the back door.
She charges outside and patrols the backyard. Finds nothing. Comes back in. Ambles back to the bedroom and flops back down.
NOT in the mood — patience-wise or finance-wise — to get the irrigation dude back here to figure that out. Sooo…what now?
Just let it run, I figure. If it doesn’t go off, I can shut the system down manually and call Irrigation Dude. But…with any luck, it will run through its cycle and then shut up.
I hope.
This is the sort of thing that makes an apartment in a high-rise look good.
It’s “only” in the mid to upper 90s here, – but oh my goodness, the humidity! In the mornings when I check the weather, it’s almost invariably over 90%. Unpleasant, to say the least.
A few years ago – actually, more than a few now, since it was pre-pandemic – my mom and her boyfriend drove me up to spend a couple weeks with them in Michigan. I didn’t pay much attention to the weather there. But on the way back, we made a pit stop a couple hours away from the North Carolina coast. I stepped out of the air-conditioned vehicle and the hot, humid air hit me like a slap in the face. That’s when I knew I was home.