Today the sky is a hazy blue warning: Don’t go outside, don’t go outside. The high is set to hit 108F (that’s 42.2C) in the next few days. Parts of the state are already on fire.
It feels like everything is on fire these days.
At times the world seems oddly foggy and extra heavy because the air is full of fine dust blown here all the way from the Sahara.
It’s poetic, I suppose, and a moment to ponder the interconnectedness of everything on our little blue planet spinning in space, but to be honest I’m too busy coughing and sneezing and itchy and feeling drained and exhausted from the heat and the glaring sun and the dust and the outdoor mold (also at a high level right now) to really think that deeply. The gears in my brain are all gunked up with dust.
This is the time of year I absolutely loathe, to be honest. When other people talk about Summer being so awesome, I look around at Texas and I’m like, “…are you HIGH right now?” I can see being excited about it if you live somewhere with real seasons, or where the weather isn’t constantly trying to murder you, but…here? Oh hell no.
I’m an Autumn baby anyway. I don’t own any shorts except as pajamas; I don’t own a swimsuit anymore since I bought one for the cruise my BFF and I went on several years ago and it got lost somewhere (it was hideous and awful anyway, because fuck swimsuits, but still I have no idea where it went). I don’t own any flip-flops (that’s partly because they make my feet hurt, though). I have about eleventy billion scarves, though.
I apparently have a reputation for never going outside ever, but I actually do at other times of the year. Not from mid May through late September, though. Not for love nor money. I used to say I was only a Pagan from Mabon through Ostara and the rest of the year I was an Air Conditionerfarian. Still true!
Now if you’ll pardon me I’m going to dunk my head in a sink full of iced coffee and then lay down on the floor under a fan.
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