I left my uncle’s house at around 6:30 at night and I immediately went to the theater to watch Moonrise Kingdom (a great film; go see it). Then I drove east in the dark to a town called Okeechobee. And I realized how illogical it is to try to sleep in your car in the middle of a humid, summer, Central-Florida night. You can’t leave your windows down because of the mosquitoes, and, with the windows up, the inside of the car becomes a sticky-hot sauna. Sleeping sweaty is never fun.
From what I can tell, summers in Florida are the worst. There’s no point at which you can feel comfortable outside. The sun is hot, the atmosphere is moist, the insects are violent, and the thunderstorms and hurricanes are potentially fatal. The caveat to this, of course, is that if you actually spend a majority of your time inside, Florida is just as nice as anywhere else. I found myself wistful about the preceding month at my Uncle’s: the bed, the shower, the eternal air conditioner, the shelter from storms, and the ability to be outside in the heat for hours and come back to a home where I could immediately regain equilibrium.