“It is hot death on a stick here at the fair!” Our daughter, who is manning a booth at the local county fairgrounds, shared this earlier today – an expression she’d heard somewhere that seemed to fit.
I can’t do quite as good a job of description in so few words, but it IS sizzly in a thick and soupy way outside, and has been the kind of day you could fry an egg on the car bumper or dashboard, or maybe your forehead, while breathing through a sponge or being tossed around in a dryer full of hot towels.
Hot death on a stick. Wow.
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