
May is banging on our front door in Lost Wages. The temperature is starting to look like my Corvette’s tachometer when I stand on it. Starting out in the sixties, the temp will rapidly climb into the upper eighties by afternoon. Our price for eight months of mild weather is four months which would make Lucifer proud. It’s just about time to kick the A/C on and give the electric company their pound of flesh.
This is when sweating up the sheets is a reality, even with the ceiling fan on. I remember as a child sweating in bed, trying to sleep on a hot and muggy Texas night, and didn’t have another wet body to slide around on. We’ve always slept in the buff as it doesn’t make sense to have to get dressed to go to bed. Plus, it’s one less obstacle in the middle of the night when you’re getting lucky.
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