August 3, 2011
I Almost Died in a Tar Pit.
The one and only thing that I can say I am enjoying about this ridiculous heat wave falls somewhere along the lines of "Misery loves company".
I have always hated the heat. I have always dreaded the Summer. I have never liked the feeling of the sun blaring down on my skin. It gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it! bleeegweee!!
I have felt entirely alone in this sentiment for all the years that I can ever remember.
Whenever I would mention the fact that I, ahem, *strongly* disliked the sun, people would balk. They would stare aghast and ask how on earth I could not love the Summer...
What about the pool days?
The beach days?
The sun bathing?
The tank tops and shorts and flip flops?
The ice cream trucks??
No. no. no. no. yes.
I could write passionately about how much I have always disliked the heat and how my very soul seems to wake up and sing when it is cold or overcast or rainy or snowing, but I will spare you my soap-boxy long-windedness.
All I can say is that this heat wave has suddenly made me feel like a whole lot less of an outsider. It has been the hottest two months on record for this state, and we are smack dab in the middle of the worst drought in 90 years. We've had 68 days straight of higher-than-norm temps. It's drier than the dust bowl days here, folks! And just today? It was 113 degrees and my flip flop stuck to the pavement when I hopped out to get Ezra from school.
THE TAR IS MELTING. Hide yo dinosaurz.
Every thing is brown. Everything is miserable. Everyone is grouchy. Yet somehow, I find myself... smirking inside.
It seems that all everyone wants to talk about these days is how awful the heat is. And all I can do is try not to nod so hard that my head falls off and smile and emphatically agree.
It takes all that I have in me not to yell at the top of my lungs, "I TOLD YOU HEAT WAS EVIIIIIIL!!!!!" and dive head-first into the nearest ice box. Or ice cream truck.
Misery may love company, but she also loves her Rocket Pops.