Hot Time, Summer in the City

It officially reached some stage of being "hot" today in Dublin. Harry the Friendly Maintenance Man reckoned it was about 20 degrees Centigrade (conversion to Farenheit? You're asking the wrong girl-- I stopped doing Math in the 90's). All I know is that standing in the sun, talking to my neighbor Zed (from Ethiopia), my neck was sweaty and I wished I had bloody brought a tank-top or two.

Since it is summer, this also means my allergies have come out in full force. Weird: they've gotten worse since I've aged. My eyes itch, which they didn't last year; and my throat sometimes feels raw, which it didn't last year either. Last year I was 27, still buying time on the later end of my mid-twenties. Apparently, this means I was also one year healthier.

I still hate summer, but I prefer summer in Ireland to any other summer I've experienced. It's still cold enough at night to wear a jacket, but you could comfortably wear sandals. I don't know how the Irish could swim in a lake or a pool or the ocean in this type of summer, as it never reaches awful humind scorching point as it does in Michigan.

Occasionally, I envy the Irish. Very occasionally. And mostly when it comes to things like climate.