You see what I did there, right? Emphasis on the cold. Why would I do that on May 6th? I live in the deep south after all. By May 6th people in the deep south have ruddy skin and mosquito bites. Not this May 6th. This May 6th the high is 53 degrees and I’m typing this under a blanket with my wool socks.
I was born for heat. The only thing that keeps me alive between December and March is the promise of spring. Oh April pulls its stunts from time to time. A cold snap here. Frost on the dogwoods there. But by May I’m in the pool. Guaranteed.
This May I’m suffering from seasonal affective disorder. Sure last winter was perpetual summer and I sang with joy even though it ruined all the peaches. I can live without peaches if it means I’m barefoot in January. But, I didn’t ask for that amazing non-winter last year. I want that duly noted. I should not be punished this way because if I had known having no winter to speak of last year meant perpetual winter this year… well, I wouldn’t have taken that deal for all the tea in China. I’ll pay my winter dues and try not to complain *too* much, but BY GOLLY WHEN MAY GETS HERE I BETTER BE SWEATING UNDER THE RED BUD TREE. I can’t see how that’s too much to ask.
Because the deep south has decided to become the deep freeze, I’m exploring my options. Guam has year round summer I’m told. Belize also boasts a good many 100+ degree days. Their spotty indoor plumbing and WiFi has me a tad concerned. I’m not going to lie. Plus is Belize truly close enough to the equator? Because I’ve come to the conclusion I’m not going to be happy too far from the equator.
As I look into my beloved equator, I notice the vegetation and insects get larger and larger. The equator has cockroaches the size of Shaquille O’Neal’s basketball shoe. I’m not OK with that.
So, all I can really do is sit here in the wool socks that should have been collecting dust in the back of the drawer for two months now and face the reality that I may not make it to summer with my sanity intact. At this rate, there will be no summer. Is this what nuclear winter feels like? It does seem like what I imagined when I watched those filmstrips.
Y’all go on about your lives and don’t mind me. I’m curled up in the fetal position crying. If the terrorist regimes ever want to get state secrets out of me, all they need to do is stick me in never-ending winter. It’s my Achilles heel. (This might be why no one ever tells me secrets.)
I’m rambling now but you’ll have to excuse me. I’m dying a slow frosty death. This is the big one, Elizabeth! I’m coming!