Mugginess Manifests Itself

Tempest Chronicles Day 7

Of course I’m listening to the online aging advice that is forced upon me with the subtly of a mack truck being steered by a meth addict. I’m trying to learn new things all the time so I won’t have to learn how to program the robot that changes my diapers in 10 years.

On this morning’s constitutional, Ed and I noticed a few things that we were not really able to name or talk about with any sort of authority.

I don’t know if I need authority to discuss something with conviction, that’s the beauty of being older, no one really listens. So you can actually tell your cashier that a hypotenuse is the side of a right triangle that is opposite to the right angle unsolicited and they will nod with that knowing look that maybe somebody should check this guy’s meds. So when I saw everyone’s windows in their house and the various plate glass windows of local businesses were covered in condensation to the point of not being able to see in or out, I knew I had today’s learning opportunity.

I love walking, always have, I remember feeling my first taste of freedom when my mother let me walk the 3 blocks to elementary school by myself. I know you’re asking yourself: “Wasn’t she afraid that you would be eaten by dinosaurs?” and the answer is a definitive YES, because I found out a few days in that she had been following me all along.

Which of course is what we were told in the Christian high school also, that if we were to gossip, or dance, or say the word “butt”, God was watching and we would be cast into the fiery lake of hell. So I guess mama was just playing God.

Clearly God has loosened the rules since then, because I frequently hear toddlers saying “What the Fuck?” when they don’t understand why they can’t eat their meatballs with their hands.

The newly arrived excessive humidity has caused my mind to wander and I am attempting to return to my point, which was inner condensation.

I turned to everyone’s enemy, Google, and asked it why there was condensation on everyone’s window and to my surprise it started to tell me that I needed to buy new windows, a new AC and heating system, and of course I needed to buy a dehumidifier.

Which of course led me to recall the winter spate of nosebleeds that I had last year in which the ENT doctor told me I needed to get a HUMIDIFIER. In New Orleans, where I’m certain the first human gills are going to evolve and appear on our populace in the next generation, this man suggested more humidity.

Are we really just living on such a knife’s edge that we need machines to exist in all seasons? IS New Orleans the ICU unit of the world with regards to climate change? We need machines to ADD moisture, we need machines to SUBTRACT moisture, there’s like maybe 3 days a year when we can unplug. If we unplug will there be one of those Hospital Cardiac Monitor steady constant beeps in the background of our civic landscape that we all hear and suddenly try and call the nurse’s station?

Who would be our nurse’s station? 911? 311? City Hall? Catholic Diocese? Marie Laveau? Drive thru Daiquiri Shops? I feel like the relatively new mayoral administration should look into organizing a city wide nurse’s station, maybe the employees could wear crisp white uniforms with a folded cap atop their heads and……..a cape!!

Not in a Superman sort of cape but in a Clara Barton, Nurse Ratched sort of cape. Instead of a red cross they could have either a Fleur de lis or maybe an overturned go cup insignia to distinguish whether they’re a business - like happy to help nurse, or a heavy metal head banging nurse who is not afraid to stick an empty pen cartridge in your throat to get you breathing again after you fall on one of our tree root buckled sidewalks.

Where was I going with this? Hell if I know, I got 6 months of brain sparks to share until hurricane season 2026 is declared dead, if you want weather reports there’s plenty out there, but if you want HUMANITY reports, stick with me……..

Thoughts????

Vitals: 86 degrees and 70% humidity with very little wind means it feels like you’ve been enclosed inside a tylenol that’s been dropped under the floor mat of your least favorite cousin’s 1997 Mitsubishi Eclipse.

6 days down

177 to go…..