Hot. It is hot. Also there is heat.

The DC motto is, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity."

Except when it's both, like today.

Like, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the sweat runs down the small of your back, and the feeling of your messenger bag against your thigh makes you want to throw it against a wall because it's melting your capri pants to your skin. A walk around the corner to the bus stop builds up a sheen of sweat all over you, and by the time you get there sweat runs freely down your legs and of course the bus doesn't have air conditioning, so you try not to touch the back of the seat or the person sitting next to you. And you're gasping for a breeze, dying for open space, praying that you'll be there soon, and when the bus finally stops and you jump off and that breeze hits you....relief.

That's July in DC.