It's Not The Heat... It's The Humidity!

Pittsburgh heat really is different than the heat in California and Nevada.

I don’t normally complain about the heat. A long time ago I decided that some people complain about the cold and some people carp about the heat. I was going to pick a side, and I chose winter as my enemy.

I sided with hot against cold, as if they were the living embodiments of the weather they represent, like Heat Miser and Cold Miser in “A Year Without Santa Claus.”

However, this week,

I still love the heat over the cold. Though, I do like to sleep with the covers on. I don’t like flopping around in my own flop sweat sans blankets. 

I used to cringe when I heard the ancient aphorism, “It’s not the heat but the humidity.” However, after living in Los Angeles, I can tell you, “that’s a real thing.”

In Los Angeles I have been hot. The temperatures get pretty high, but the heat is rarely oppressive and it rarely lasts all night long. Fun fact; Los Angeles is a desert by the water. It’s just covered with urban sprawl, so you don’t realize you’re in the barren wasteland (some may say it’s a cultural wasteland, but that’s beside the point). There’s a 7-11 on every corner, not quite a magical oasis, but there’s always someplace to pick up a bottled water (or Slurpee) if it starts to swelter.

Once I walked around Las Vegas in 110 degree weather. You don’t sweat in Vegas... unless you’re in the casino waiting for the Croupier to drop the ball into the roulette wheel. Outside of the casino, you will sweat, but it is a waterless sweat. Little white flakes slough off your forehead and arms, which I have dubbed, sweat flakes (that would be such an unpopular breakfast cereal). I didn’t mind walking around in such hot weather. There was no humidity, and, in the desert, it cools at night and I can sleep under the covers.  That is not the case in Pittsburgh. It’s the thick, wet hot that bothers me.  The I-can’t-sleep-it’s-so-[place your favorite curse word here]-hot heat.

I held out a long while. I only turned the AC on this week. There were plenty of days where I was tempted to turn it on, but I wasn’t home long enough in the day time to justify the massive amounts of energy the unit used. The ceiling fan helped. The ceiling fan and I became good friends, until I fell in love with the Air Conditioner.

When I finally flipped the switch, it was wonderful. It was not quite love at first sight, but an affair that I suspect will last the summer.


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