How about this heat?

I’m not sure if you’re noticed, but it’s hot.

Crazy hot.

Unncessarily hot.

Stupid hot.

Why? Because it’s June and I live in South Carolina.

I have lived most of my 45 years in the South. I spent a year in Michigan as a toddler too young to remember what cold is. I spent a year in Northern Virginia as a seventh grader with no recollection other than snow, because middle schoolers – in particular Southern ones – are impervious to heat, and only form weather memories when snow falls. I can vividly remember all of the snows of my childhood. Hardly remember a moment of heat, save for the time a friend and I decided we’d drive to the pool in the car with the windows rolled up and the AC off in the middle of summer to see how refreshing the water would feel. Fun fact: high schoolers sometimes have questionable judgment.
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Workin’ at the car wash

As the old saying goes, “Nothing reveals a man’s character like when the car wash is broken.”

Wait, that’s not an old saying?

Well, it should be.

The other day, my family was out of town, so I was left to my own devices. I do what I normally do when I am left at home alone, which is try to relax on the couch and watch some TV, which is impossible because all I end up doing is going through a list of all of the things I could actually get done. Also, our dog, Maddux the Stoic, usually insists on sitting either right in front of or on top of me, so I usually abandon the idea rather quickly.
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