Once upon a time, in a camping spot that was not a camping spot out in El Azizia, Libya, there lived a little weather-recording man. It was his job to record the hottest temperature on Earth.
So on September 13, 1922, while he was standing in his boxers, he reached for his little note pad and walked out to the thermometer to take the temperature. He was sure to put on his leather sandals because the sand outside was bound to melt his little rubber flip flops into bubble gum before he could call out, "Dam it's hot out her!"
So he dutifully headed over, looked at the thermometer, scratched his head, should the little mercury-filled thing and his eyes almost exploded in their sockets. It read 136°F/58°C.
Holy frack!
"And what relevance does this have?, you ask.
Quite a lot actually for my airconditioning is not working. So I have to leave the windows open and have the fans spinning. But still it is very warm. It is 80°F/27°C in my apartment. And while that may not sound very warm, trust me, the sweat running down the back of my legs thinks otherwise.
2 comments:
Well if it's 27 AND humid that's crap. That's not a nice indoor temperature. I have that several ties every summer because my place faces east and west, so it gets baked all day.
it's a fracken killer. sweat drips. not pleasant. airconditioning, she is coming end of the week.
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