Living in a neck-breather

The other day I was watching the weather forecast on the local news. Apparently an actual, written-on-the-screen, quantifiable weather element here in Miami is Extra Steamy. My first thought was, "I'm living in a freaking neck-breather." (You know, trashy romance novel. At least that's what one of my mission companions from Zimbabwe called them.) Only, I wish it were so romantic. Even all the wind didn't seem to help cool you down. It really just made it feel like there was a large sweaty man standing in front of a fan and you were just unfortunate enough to walk past and catch the spray.

I know, if you live here, you probably didn't even notice. I did. I noticed that when they had to open the outside doors in our building because they had painted, even the walls, the floors and our doorway were sweating. And when I've been reading about friends around the country starting to experience fall, I really was shocked, like I'd never heard of the season. I've already forgotten about everything but being constantly moist. Yep. I said it.