By mid-afternoon Saturday, our backyard thermometer hit 92 degrees. The final high for the day may have been even higher. I’m not a glutton for punishment. I quit looking at it. Sunday was even warmer.
For weeks, months in some cases, I’ve been watching weather reports of record scorching temperatures across the country and, ashamedly so, not really giving it that much thought. If anything, I was wishing we’d get some of that stuff. Instead we plowed through day after day, many of them starting out with the ubiquitous “marine layer,” followed by temps in the high 50s to the 60s and low 70s.
This past weekend, I was forced into a shared experience with my fellow citizens. Mind you, few Pacific Northwesters have invested in the seldom-needed luxury of air conditioning, but it does seem as though it might have come in handy.
But being in the Pacific Northwest has the advantage of cooler evenings, regardless of daytime temps. I think a night of open windows will cool everything down nicely inside the house and I can start my day in a cool and comfortable home.
And then, come Monday, things will return to normal with temps for the rest of the week predicted to be in the 70s. Thanks, Tacoma. I needed that. No more craving to live in some other part of the country. Nope. Things are just fine here.