I live in the South, where the Summer heat is the stuff of which legends are made. To put it bluntly, the heat, y’all, is a bitch. A five-star, gold-plated, ask-no-quarter-and-give-none BE-yatch. You can take your frostbite up in Yankee-Land and shove it where the Sun don’t shine. Frostbite is Romper-Room class stuff, compared to heatstroke. How do I loathe it? Let me count the ways:
