It’s hot, it’s humid, it’s sticky, and I’m out of here.

Give me 105 with no humidity, and I’m a happy camper. In fact, I’ve grown quite accustom to and fond of Arizona’s heat, but when monsoon arrives I’m miserable.

When I complain, copy editor Constance Israel, an Alabama native, reminds me what we’re experiencing isn’t humidity by any measure in the Southeast.

I realize humidity under 50 percent means nothing to people who deal with day in and day out, but I can’t handle it.

I grew up in Wyoming, a dry state and moved to Montana, another dry state. Now, Arizona monsoon is the most humidity I’ve every had to deal with.

When I head back to Buffalo, N.Y., in early September with my fiance I’m not sure what to expect. He says there’s humidity so hopefully the pool will be warm enough for an Arizonan to deal with. Plunging to a cool body of water is the only relief I’ve found from the sticky nastiness humidity is.

Anyhow, for now, I’ll take a long-weekend vacation to Montana to float down the Blackfoot River, fish and enjoy the company of my best friend, Desirae Ware, in a cool 80 degrees.