It's hot. No, it's cracks-in-the-dirt, egg-frying-on-the-sidewalk, blast-furnace hot. And I hope nobody who lives in the Southwest reads this, 'cause I don't like to be one-upped. (grin)
When it's this hot, nobody moves faster than a slow plod, and God help you if you get in the way of their plod. People vie to be the fastest temper on the draw. So Monday ain't manic, it's oh crap another day of triple digits, that's what it is.
In the spirit of true trivia, six months ago the temp barely hovered above zero. Ah, the joys of Midwest living!