We're still stuck in the long, hot
eighth month. In Florida, August bites. The temperatures aren't as high as
those in my previous home of Kansas, but the humidity here weighs down the
air. My clothes stick to my skin. The sun blazes.
And then, nearly
every afternoon, it rains. Big, fat raindrops that splat on my windshield
as I navigate my way to work. Marshy puddles accumulate in lawns.
Mosquitoes swarm. Never mind that in a few months, the temperatures will
drop and Florida will be at its most pleasant. For now, I slog.