It’s too hot to write anything that makes sense, and no one reads blogs anyway during the Summer, so I thought I’d just ramble for a few hundred words.
“Gee, Austin, how is that any different from your other posts?” Excellent comeback, whichever one of you yelled that out first!
Clearly, Maine is giving Global Warming a serious tryout. It has been close to 90 degrees all week, and The House on the Hill is not air conditioned. I’m voting that we don’t hire Global Warming, and just go back to the way things were.
While 90 degrees might seem like normal Summer weather to many of you, keep in mind that the average daily temperature in Maine is 35 degrees. So we’re operating at almost triple the norm right now, and Mainers don’t know how to deal with heat. We’re experts at handling the cold, but heat turns us into a sweaty pack of inappropriately dressed morons. Trust me, you do not want to see what passes as Summer wardrobe up here.
I slept on the couch last night, which gave me a serious case of deja vu. I kept expecting to hear the ex-wife banging things around upstairs in anger, and shouting down the stairs at me about whatever wrong I’d committed to have me banished to the couch.
You know what? Sleeping on the couch isn’t bad at all when you’re single. It was nice and cool with the windows open, I didn’t have the empty half of the bed to remind me that I’m all alone, and it just felt damn rebellious.
Single guys, reclaim sleeping on the couch! It’s not a punishment if you choose to do it on your own! Trust me on this…
The rumble of thunder. A storm is coming. Finally. Something to cool off this heat wave. Maine was meant to be refrigerated, not baked to a golden brown. We need some relief.
When the weather gets like this, I wish we really were Under The Dome. As long as life inside was climate controlled. I could also do without all the murder and the neurological craziness that goes on Under The Dome on my TV.
Since I’m a lonely, single guy living in a sweaty, gross world, the highlight of my night is going to be heating up leftover pizza, pouring a tall glass of Snapple, and watching whatever nonsense my DVR recorded for me this week.
Sure, I miss hearing the words “I love you” and feeling like someone in the world cares about me, but at least I’m not as lost as I used to be.
The thunder is getting louder, Modern Philosophers. I think that’s my cue to wrap up the worst post I’ve ever written for this blog, and allow you some relief.
I’ll leave you with this photo of rebel Nuns trying to shoot out the windows in Heaven. I wonder what that’s all about.
No one reads blogs in the Summer anyway…