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toonvectors-12653-140My indurate intellect is failing to come up with anything profound or witty and I daresay it’s the heat. Some see relief in the summer solstice but thems who live in the desert think otherwise. “It’s a dry heat’ is of small comfort when the daily highs are near 115. It’s 8PM and it is still 100 degrees.

I went to a medical school whose unofficial panacea was push fluids. This is especially important in the months of June, July, and August; a glass of water is my constant companion.  Someone doesn’t care for water so I have to constantly remind him to drink some lest our kidneys shut down or we faint from heat-induced hypotension.

You would think after ten years living in the Valley of the Sun I would be quite used to summer in the desert, but this year I am languishing a bit more than usual. At work I’ve gotten terribly sloppy that I haven’t worn a proper tie for a month. Patients don’t seem to give a damn as they know we are all in the same sweaty boat. Short pants show up at the symphony, which is quite the faux-pas under normal circumstances.

On the positive note the heat has burned away all the nasty pollen and I am breathing better. Highway traffic has greatly diminished indicating people have sensibly crept away to colder climes or they have gone into estivation.

Someone pointed out this year I have far more travel plans than usual, so I needn’t complain about the heat. Nearly all of them have less hellish climates although humidity becomes a matter. If ever I should feel bitchy in this bakehouse called Arizona I can stop to remember there isn’t an ounce of moisture in the air. Next weekend’s trip is to Michigan. That will be a moist reminder how good it is back home.

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