This is not one of those times.
Yesterday was indeed brutal, and last night's thunderstorm epic, but this morning was no apology.
At 5:45, I stepped outside to go for a run across the surface of Venus. The morning air was trying to be cool, like a balding, fat, 53 year old man in a Member's Only jacket, driving across campus in a t-top Camaro and blasting Barry Manilow's 1978 disco hit, Copacabana, while winking at the girls going past. OK, it wasn't quite as cool as that.
Tiny invisible fairies stretched their coarsest woolen gossamer across my path, lovingly wrapping me in a warm, damp embrace and helpfully thickening the air I'd hoped to breath. It was quite an interesting run.
My new goal for the day: stop sweating at some point before bed.