Baby, It’s Hot Outside… Like Really Hot

Like taking ice cream from this baby...

I don’t mean to be all apocalyptic, but I also may or may not be hoarding food-stuffs in my basement.

What used to be welcome signs of the first tender days of summer, the quiet song of the cicada and the face-warming temperatures of late-Spring, have turned on everyone. They have become the deafening roar of horny, obscenely large bugs, and the sweltering stickiness that I usually associate with the end of summer, when my liver is so exhausted from patios and margaritas that it has chosen to travel alongside me on a skateboard.

We are only a few weeks into summer and it is shaping up to be about as appealing as eating a Blowpop while grooming a collie.

Because my uterus has essentially delivered up a tether to my front porch in the form of Boogie, I have been spending most of these sweltering days indoors. It is slowly becoming an elective quarantine though since the few occasions I’ve ventured out have done more to instill the fear in me than they have for curing my cabin fever.

Is there anything worse than taking ice cream from a baby, your baby no less, then being dive-bombed by a cicada as you are trying to stuff her very angry, very chubby little limbs into her car seat? Probably not. Unless of course you include that horny, obscenely large bug landing in the handle of your car door, and an entire restaurant watching as you roundhouse said door trying to scare it from its lazy landing spot. Or if you were to compound it with that awkward teen drive-thru worker who simply came out to offer assistance, probably at the beckoning of the lone patron who could breathe out a plea on your behalf in between laughs, only to be greeted with you screaming in his face like a banshee because he walked up too quietly behind you (the better to infiltrate that horny, obscenely large bug’s enemy lines of course).

Not that that would happen to anyone.

And we aren’t going to talk about how many times horny, obscenely large bugs have hitched a ride inside prompting you to strip off your pants, shirt or other assorted piece of clothing and throw it outside overnight.

Not that that would happen to anyone either.

Anyhow, I need to get back to buying canned goods and water… you know, not that storing food has anything to do with that earthquake that woke my arse up way too early this morning.

devil horns | melody

Photo credit: J Pollack Photography

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