Sweat. Wet. Got me [not] goin' like a Turbo 'vette.

Misery.

That's what August, September, October, and half of November are in Miami. I. Am. Miserable.

Given ideal weather conditions, I'm a pretty active guy. But these months take it out of me, and by "it" I mean sweat.

I'm wet, wet, wet, wet, wet. Allllll the time. And I hate it.

Some of my friends could stay dry in, say, the Congo, or a sauna. I sweat just thinking about the heat. I'm a sweaty, sweaty guy. And there's just nothing good about that.

Why did I move to Miami, if I hate the heat, I'm often asked.

Because I'm an idiot. (And I never thought I'd stay down here more than three years. Joke's on me!)

I just walked over to Belle Island to get my bike, that I marooned there about a month ago. Ordinarily, my bike and I are besties, but not during these hellish months, when just looking at it drenches me... hence our monthlong separation.

Walking to get the bike (whose tires are just about flat, by now) and riding it home, wrung out of me a quantity of sweat, that was truly impressive.

I'm ready for summer to be over.

Like two months ago.