I have a new appreciation for our summer heat. My wife and I just returned from about five days in Chicago, where temperatures reached the high 90s. Coupled with the disgusting, thick humidity, I was taking two showers a day and still sweating uncontrollably.

We were there for the Pitchfork Music Festival (and a couple of Cubs games), so on top of it all, we spent last Saturday and Sunday outside for about eight hours per day. I couldn’t drink enough water.

I was born in Chicago and lived there until I was about 8. I still love the city, but my wife seemed to nix the idea of going back: “I don’t think I can ever live here,” she said. And she hasn’t even been through a winter there.