OK, I don't want to sound like the asshole in Denis Leary's wonderful song. But the current summertime weather is worth writing about.
It's a sort of misery-loves-company thing for my east coast pals, and an explanation-that-falls-well-short thing for my west coast folks.
The pic above was taken Saturday morning. When I walked out of the bedroom into the living room - the whole place maintaining a comfortable 70 degrees or so - that's what I saw. When we finally turned on the Weather Channel, we finally saw the temperature was in the low 70s with a dewpoint at 76. (A dewpoint at 70 is considered oppressive humidity; at 76, our relative humidity worked out to 80 percent.)
So, naturally, with the disparity between outside and inside, condensation forms outside. (I think it's why your beer mug sweats, but I'm no scientist so don't quote me on that.)
What a contrast from the west coast. It may have hit 90 a few times, but generally it was in the 80s with negligible humidity. Walking around was comfortable, and golfing was picture perfect.
At our softball game on Thursday, the humidity wasn't quite so bad, but pretty close. I wound up walking a pretty good distance along the Mall to get to our field (needlessly, but that was no one's fault). By the time I got to our spot, I had a sweat ring in my old, beat-up Arsenal hat.
Our next softball game is going to be miserable, as is most of next week. Here's the forecast, thanks to DC's ABC 7:
Monday: Hot, humid. High: 98. Low: 75.
Tuesday: Hot, humid. High: 98. Low: 76.
Wednesday: Hot, humid. High: 96. Low: 76.
Thursday: Hot, humid. High: 95. Low: 77.
Friday: Hot, humid. High: 95. Low: 75.
That ain't gonna be pretty. I might actually have to forego some beer in sake of water.
Perish the thought.