Every day I get up and sincerely hope, "Maybe today is the day that I can wear pants again...."
Summer isn't all that long. But the humidity can be so brutal that wearing pants - let alone socks and shoes - leaves you in that frazzled state of being too-hot to function properly. So I inevitably put on shorts and a t-shirt. Which goes against my principles of decency completely. First off - any man wearing shorts looks like a five year old boy. Secondly - I like collars. No idea why but if I'm not wearing a collar I feel very scruffy. Almost naked. Which is why I'll put on a clerical collar when I'm showering. Anyhoo - yesterday the weatherman did the usual - claiming that in two days the weather would calm down with this constant, brutal humidity (hyperbole obviously - it's been about two and a half weeks really) and cool down. He will even claim that starting tomorrow it will drop three or four degrees. Then the next day this whole spiel will be forgotten as he gloats about accurately forecasting the 2 degree increase in temperatures. Then he'll try that whole, "in two days the constant, brutal humidity will calm down" bollocks. I don't know why I give him any credence seeing as the only other thing he ever mentions is the potential (statistically.....) impending death-storm that may strike us given the right conditions. He always neglects to mention that those conditions involve completely different geography, weather and, I suspect, nefarious intervention by the Weather Wizard.
Speaking of clothing my daughter came to me a frustrated panic late yesterday afternoon. She had that wobble in her voice - as if she hadn't decided whether to capitulate to her emotions yet - but that pretty soon she wouldn't be able to make the choice herself. "Daddy - my bum cheeks are broken." You can't laugh at that. Actually that's completely untrue as I did immediately laugh. But I've developed a way of doing that which I can pass off as a facial twitch and/or an old-person fart-face. Needless to say that once I delved a little further into the situation she had put her underpants on backwards. That hadn't dawned on her at all. No - instead she automatically assumed that she'd been outside in her bathing suit and everything was normal. But then upon entering the house her buttocks became instantly deformed. Although to be fair it did remind me of 7 or 8 years prior when I stood in front of my wife claiming that somehow every single item of clothing I tried on had shrunk. Maybe the new laundry detergent was defective somehow It used to fit - but slowly over the past 3 or 4 months it seemed to be getting smaller and tighter. A complete mystery only solved at the moment by me postulating that eco-terrorists had sabotaged clothing soap to irritate the general populace by making the clothes all tiny.
Of course now I'm like a finely toned greyhound. I've also managed to calculate an algorithm that allows me to consume not solely Arsehole Fuel (4 apples - 8 cups of coffee before 2pm). I knew that complete lack of appetite was a temporary thing and that at some point ice cream and milkshakes would make it into my diet as I treat the kids i all this heat. Quite simply instead of running the minimum of 4 miles every morning I can use my lack of appetite to my advantage by not bothering with dinner (waste of time anyway) and run at least five and a half miles every evening at 8pm in the savage humidity. It won't sell as well as all those fashionable diets that were all the rage a few years ago. Especially as I still mostly don't have much of an appetite and it involves running a lot. But it has allowed me to stuff my fat face with the gift of beef jerky that I received recently and suck down large strawberry milkshakes with the kids content in the knowledge that the three of us will sweat out all this nastiness like a Gitmo torture-victim.
All of which makes me wonder why my daughter thinks I look like a plump, middle-aged woman. One who wears some sort of purple overalls as well.
Not only that but I appear to be married to Swiss Toni. No idea how this all happened but when my daughter plays with these toys I'm always the purple lady and this is my husband.
Now you see why I have to put pants and a collar on again and firmly show that I am the Daddy of this household.