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Just before supper, I got the grass cut to the tune of "Gooseberries" by Anton Chekhov (part of a short story collection I'm listening to on my iPod). Came back in drenched in sweat. It wasn't quite 90°, but it was close, and the humidity's at about the halfway point. Also got through most of "A Hunger Artist" by Franz Kafka from the same collection (I have a large yard, and I also cut the median strip in our court). And, yes, tomorrow promises to be, as pooh's already mentioned, even hotter and more humid.
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