I never liked humidity.
It’s a soggy towel draped over my body. Humidity weighs down on my bare shoulders, causing me to feel lethargic, to walk more slowly. It convinces my hair to spin wildly out of control. Thin tendrils (what I like to call frizz) rise lazily in a soft cloud around my face, causing me to look stressed and (dare I say it?) slightly crazy.
That being said, do I really want a life with no humidity?
It took twenty-four hours of Alaskan living before I realized exactly what I was in for. This place is dry as paper. That may sound like bliss to some. Heck, it should’ve sounded like bliss to me. I’ve spent almost my entire life dancing an uncomfortable cha-cha with humidity. First, there were fifteen years in southern Florida. My ten years in the mountains of Asheville were less traumatic: the mountains experience some humidity, sure, but it’s nothing to write home about. When I moved three hours due east to Durham, humidity waved a jaunty hello, greeting me like the old nemesis she was.
The perks of a dry, desert climate: if you happen to cloth diaper or wash your clothing by hand, this is the place for you. Thick cloth diapers that took several days to dry in Durham are done in eight hours here. Eight hours! I was flabbergasted.
If you like to step out of the shower and feel dry almost instantly, book a flight to Alaska. At home, the showering process looks more like this: I shower. I dry off. I apply make-up, only to realize, crap, there’s beads of sweat scattered all over nose and under my eyes. Wait, my forehead’s shiny too. I pause to blot, than resume application. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
The cons…you should probably buy stock in moisturizer, bottled water, and humidifiers. I apply lotion to myself, to Lukas, to his cheeks, constantly (the cold weather and dry climate did a number on us, particularly those gloriously chubby baby cheeks). Moisturizer is invaluable here. I could drink a gallon of water a day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Add in a pregnancy and the amount is more like two gallons a day. As for humidifiers…they are an Alaskan necessity. Ideally, we’d have a humidifier big enough to take cover an entire house. A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t woken up in the morning with a dry, stuffy nose. I still haven’t gotten used to it.
Humidity, I’ve always had a tumultuous relationship with you. You cling to me like a soggy, needy baby, leaving narrow trails of sweat in your wake. But darn it, I actually miss you. I miss breathing like a normal human being; that sweet feel of moisture soaked skin; and yes, sometimes, even those salty trails of sweat.
So, my dear humidity, get your jaunty wave on, because I’m coming for ya in July.