Back East they complain that 'It's not the heat, it's the humidity.' I'm here to tell you that it's not as simple as that. Easterners suffer from such an excess of moisture over an annual cycle that they never think of the hardship of aridity.
I just finished a bicycle ride in enormous humidity by New Mexican standards: 60% in mid-morning. It only takes 30% to generate an afternoon thunderstorm. The fields have become green with all the rain and humidity lately. The Easterners yawn at this news. But not me. Soon my camera will go to work on fields full of seed heads, texture, and flowers. Bear in mind that in April, after a freakishly wet and snowy winter, everything was still brown.
Some people's idea of sensual luxury is to go to a spa and be pampered with hot springs, massages, aromatherapy, etc. I'll settle for an experience like today: I didn't need to smear my skin with that crisco-like sunscreen, since the high humidity partly blocked the sun. I really hate that greazy crap, and can't relax after a ride until I remove it. Merely taking a shower is not sufficient; a scraper like you use on the bottom of skis is called for, in addition to lacquer stripper.
For some reason skin is my main sense-organ, unlike most people and their eyeballs. People under-appreciate semi-humid air. (I said 'semi.') It overwhelms a person with gentleness and mildness. It's a medicinal unguent flowing over the skin. Even your eyes can relax; no longer are they grimacing with fear. I was so euphoric on the return ride that I entertained the ultimate outdoors fantasy: riding a bicycle without sunglasses (gasp!).
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Now the lightning is another thing all together when you are a lifeguard. Had a close call yesterday.