Okay, it’s the humidity, too—but yesterday, Toronto made last week in Atlanta feel like Alaska. (And yes, I know we lucked out with a relatively mild week in Atlanta.)
Yesterday in Toronto it was 36 degrees but with the humidity, it felt like 47—according to the weather folks. For you Americans, 36 is around 98 and 47 is about 118. Freakin’ hot.
Some people are heat people and some aren’t. I’m not. Call me crazy, but a breeze that feels like a blowdryer isn’t my idea of pleasant weather. Since I’ve been back in Toronto, there have been maybe 20-30 days in each year when I’ve asked myself why I ever left the weather paradise that is Northern California. Those days when I question my sanity usually include some in January or February. But it’s not always the coldest days. It’s the days when it’s slushy or sleeting or raining. The yucky days.
But forget the winter. The bulk of my I-hate-Toronto-weather days are in the summer. The days when it’s so hot and humid and smoggy I just want to curl up and die. Me? I like temperatures in the mid to high twenties—hot in the sun, comfortable in the shade, maybe a nice breeze, a bright blue sky dappled with clouds. I don’t ask for much 😉
When I lived in California, many of my friends would ask me how I ever survived Canadian winters. One word—jacket. You can dress for the cold. If you need to, you can cover virtually every inch of your body with warm fuzzy things to shut it out.
When it’s over a hundred all you can do is wilt or stay indoors.