Geezuz, I hate summer. Right now it is about ninety degrees outside, with humidity around seventy percent. The forecast for tomorrow is near ninety degrees, and for the next sixty days it will be near ninety or above. Then they have what they call the "real feel" temperature. That is around one hundred and eight degrees today. I don't give a flying twerk what the damn real feel temperature is because when I go outside it doesn't really feel like that to me. No, what it really feels like is that I have just stepped into a thick, hot, giant mass of camel spit. Yes I have air conditioning. It runs non-stop from April until some time in November, and I have a lake that has formed on the side of my house where the system spits out the humidity it has extracted. What I hate most about summer with it's heat and humidity, is the lethargy. The heat seems to suck the very life out of me. I don't feel like doing anything. There is a box containing Mark's new charcoal smoker, sitting on the front porch where I left it four weeks ago. My pool and back yard are an untamed jungle with leaves scattered all over, and vines growing everywhere. I simply don't have the energy to clean it up. Just taking the trash bins out to the street on garbage day makes me want to take a nap. I know, it's not very interesting to listen to me whine about how horrible Florida is in the summer. So I promise not to mention the weather again in my blog. At least not until January when I'll be rubbing it in your faces.