hu·mid·i·ty      (hyōō-mĭd’ĭ-tē)    

  1. Dampness, especially of the air.
  2. Relative humidity.

[Middle English humidite, from Old French, from Medieval Latinhūmiditās, from Latin hūmidushumid; see humid.]


I don’t like humidity.  Right now, humidity is the bane of my existence, my nemesis, if you will.  Humidity is something that I have lived with all my live.  I’ve always been in climes where humidity started in the early spring and lasted until late fall, and at one point in my life, humidity could be found in some percentages all year ’round.

Humidity sucks.

If you are among the hundreds of thousands of people in this world who have wooden doors, like we do, then you know when it’s humid, the doors expand and stick.  Oh?  You live in an arid landscape?  So you don’t know what it’s like?  Ok.  Here’s what you do:  Take your door off the hinges and go throw it in the pool or a nearby lake.  Let it float for a while.  Then bring it home and hang it back in the door frame and close it.  Can’t do it, can you?  

Oh, so you don’t want to remove the door?  Ok, I guess I can understand that.  

When it’s humid, clothes that are hung to dry don’t dry.  Dishes that have been washed take twice as long to dry off.  Don’t have that problem?  Well, here’s what you can do to remedy not having that problem.  Take your clothes and hang them on those typical wooden drying racks.  You probably had them in college because you couldn’t afford the $2 in quarters to dry them.  I know I did.  Put the rack in the same room as your dryer.  Take another load of wet clothes (this is an experiment remember?  ‘Sides, unless you’re single, you probably have more than one load to wash anyway) and put them in the dryer.  Disconnect the dryer vent.  Turn on the dryer.  See all that condensation on the inside of your window?  Humidity.  Expect an additional 2-4 days for your hanging clothes to even come close to drying out.  And for the dishes?  Take as many pots as will fit on your stove, fill them with water and bring them to a boil.  Let them boil.  And boil.  That water that’s dripping off your cabinets?  Humidity.

I am not a fan.

Want to go work out?  You don’t really have to.  Just take a short walk around the block and you’ll come home looking like you’ve run a half-marathon (or in my case, a 5k) dripping with enough sweat people start asking you why you jumped in the neighbor’s kiddie pool.

But the worse thing?  Frizzy hair.  And I don’t just mean the “finger in the socket” look because I get that every morning when I tumble out of bed.  No.  I mean the look I get in the afternoon, having showered that morning, “done” my hair that morning, and gone about my day.  By the time afternoon rolls around and I catch a glimpse in the mirror, I see Susan Boyle looking back at me.  Only I can’t sing like that – unless I’m in the shower.

I.  Hate.  Humidity.


4 thoughts on “Humidity

  1. Okay, I’m going to talk in case you want to throw something at me.

    I live in Long Beach, Ca. The weather is awesome and we have no humidity. : > )

    Assaults are, however, rather regular.

    • Trey and I went to San Diego back in ’98 to race in the first Rock N Roll Marathon and we fell in love with the weather in SoCal. But I’d rather have humidity than assaults any day.

  2. I’m from Miami and I never noticed that door thing! Humidity doesn’t bother me but it has made me OCD about the shower curtain. I insist that it always be open. (Fully extended.) Mold and mildew have to be fought preemptively!

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