Slicing and Hacking

Last night's golf league was brutal. Not only did I play poorly but the weather was rough: hot and humid. I drank two Gatorades and still felt like I had a mild case of heat stroke when I got home. My head felt like I was running a fever.

Next week's Tuesday forecast is calling for a high of 99. I do like golf more than I once did, and generally do better than I once did, but playing in virtually triple digits? I'm already trying to think of an excuse to miss. The golf as a whole that is, not just the ball. I've already become quite proficient at that.

To tell you the truth, and I realize we're talking about extremes and not norms with crazy summer temps like that, but I'd rather be on a curling rink in February than a golf course in June. It's easier to warm up than cool down. 

Who Needs Sleep

We are certainly in the dog days of summer, aren't we? Heat and humidity and stickiness abound, and none of it comfortable. Yet that could not keep me from falling asleep at my desk at hot, humid Shop the other day.

That has actually happened quite a bit over the years at work. When you're hot and sticky at home, you can't sleep. Add the dirt and grime which you naturally pick up while working and it just doesn't seem as though a guy could relax enough to drift off. But sure enough, my head slipped onto my chest that day and I was out. My ringing cell phone woke me about fifteen minutes later.

I remember it happening forty years ago. We'd be working and take a break and bam, me Grandpa Joe is saying let's get back at it. But we only just stopped! 

Anyway, I don't get it. Hot and sticky at home, can't sleep. Hot, sticky, and dirty at work, dozing like a baby. Life makes no sense sometimes.