I check the time. It’s 7:30. I’ve been lying in bed awake for quite some time, seriously considering the possibility of staying here all day. An overhead fan slowly stirs the air giving the illusion of a lazy afternoon on the plantation where “the livin’ is easy.” The air conditioning clicks on erasing my fantasy; so I stretch and roll out of bed.
When I was a child I thought that old folks who talked about the weather all the time were boring. Didn’t they have anything more interesting to talk about? The perspective of maturity and the reality of our current drought over much of the country give the weather an altogether different slant.
Even though I grew up in a small college town, the majority of the population in my mountain county lived off the land. Weather is everything to farmers. Of course they were going to talk about it. Last night at nine o’clock the temperature at my house was still sitting on 90 degrees. This kind of heat permeates every aspect of my being. Of course I’m going to talk about it.
Being hot and sticky all the time causes me to lose patience with the “small stuff” which probably wouldn’t ordinarily bother me. For example–Mitt Romney in London. On a good day I would likely shrug, mutter “What an idiot.” and let it go. Not so last night as I watched the news. Instead, I had an overwhelming urge to write him a letter, send a text, call him — better yet, go hunt him down and give him my best (worst) nose-to-nose critique. Lambaste him! Give him what for!
Alas, another fantasy which must be erased. I’ll try not to think about Mitt Romney in Israel and Poland. Let us pray…
Y’all have a good day. Stay cool.
Back On My Own 