I've spent this whole month getting lit up every time I get out of my truck. It's been dry here. About eight or nine years ago I was one of the Unlucky dogs sent to work on the replacement of the roof on the Carrier dome in Syracuse. When it's deflated, It forms a huge bowl and a perfect spot in the center to stage gang boxes, material, and a water cooler that some genius decided to put a thermometer next to that read anywhere from 116 to 126 degrees by 2pm. Think that doesn't work on your head? Although I spent most of my time out of the bowl securing the new fabric to the outer rim, sooner or later I'd have to hook off to a safety cable and walk the rib between the fabric to the bottom for bolts or something. Every single stinking time You stepped from the rib to the fabric and back or hooked off you'd get whacked. After two weeks of that, I was ready to kick that punk uncle Fester's ass in a BULB OFF. Thanks for bringing back that memory, I'm starting to twitch again