I can't tell you how many times people have asked about the weather when they hear that we live in Doha, Qatar. I don't understand why it's so ingrained in us to desire that information. I suppose you could say that we ask because it's polite, a socially acceptable question without any chance of sparking an argument. Invariably when I am asked about the heat here, people say some version of the line "but it's a dry heat." And to that I say, "Oh no, it's not. It's a wet heat. A very wet heat." But, I don't think they believe me. Tonight I met Brad and his coworkers for dinner at Turkey Central, which suprisingly has no turkey on the menu. As soon as he stepped out of the car, his glasses fogged up. I laughed and made some kind of comment about it being "steamy" tonight. I didn't think it was quite so funny after dinner. After spending the drive home doing everything in my power to keep the windshield clear enough so that I could see in the crazy after dark Doha traffic, I decided to check the humidity level on the Internet. Um ... 89%. Even Saint Louis rarely finds humidity levels that high. Imagine this: it's 84 degrees out but it feels like it's 97 because of the humidity. Imagine yourself in someone's mouth. Someone who has hot, moist, feverish breath. Yeah, that's what it feels like.
Why do I want to stay? Perhaps in part because we had playgroup today and we didn't have to break up any fights among the kids, freeing us up for actual adult conversation. Lovely!
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