Normally, I like warm weather. I'm old, I'm crotchety, I hate the cold. But this 90 degree weather here off the southern gulf coast of Florida is for the birds.
Literally - let 'em have it to themselves. How I got suckered into a week of this oven-like life is a testimony to the persuasive powers of my Sainted wife.
"Yes, but there's a pool, and the gulf is warm, too!" she cries. So I'm either sweating bullets in the sun or soaking in water - frankly, I'm taking a long lunch - indoors with air conditioning. I'm sure I can find a comforting Murder, She Wrote.
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