Hello, old friends, I’ve missed you
Had I known a heat wave would follow me to D.C., I’d have taken you instead of my wool sweater and turtlenecks. This was not just any old heat wave. It was a week of record-high temperatures — oh, say, 90-something degrees — that started the minute I landed at the airport and ended the minute my departing plane left the ground. I think I even heard on the radio, “… we will have hellishly hot weather this week, and we expect a cold front to move in when — and only when — Becky leaves town.”
But back to you, dear sandals. I have three sets of blisters all over my feet from each of the three pairs of other shoes I took with me. Yes, even my tennis shoes. Maybe they’re just mad at me for not wearing them unless I leave the state. Whatever the case, my feet have never been happier to see you.