What did I ever do to you? Yes, fine, I mock everything that crosses my path and a lesser state might assume* when I move in that it’s only a matter of time. But so far I’m finding your people delightful, your greenery lush, yet varied and thus not oppressive, (I’m looking at you, pacific northwest) and your food worth crowing about. Sure, the cheese is… questionable… but it’s easy enough to avoid and thus I’ve not said one unkind word even though I’ve been warned about terrible taxes, can’t get on a plane with my new driver’s license, and everything has taken longer than it should have because of your weird bureaucracies and local customs.
Side note: this house has no toilet paper holders. When I pointed it out to Scott (when he came by to do the paperwork on our first day) he said, “here in Missouri we like to hold our paper products, keep ‘em safe.” Now, I know, and y’all know, that he was full of shit and making excuses for why this janky-ass haunted house doesn’t have a proper place to set your toilet paper roll (there are also no towel bars, in case you’re curious) but he said it with such sincerity, and with such an easy gesture—as though he were cuddling his toilet paper—that for a moment I did wonder.
But back to you, Missouri. What is your deal? How the fuck long is your summer?
Serious question, because I’m starting at my new (squee!) haunted house soon and would really not like to die of heat stroke in my costume. We can’t be having with these 80-90 degree days** while I’m wearing all those layers and maybe a mask and running around in a cramped, poorly ventilated building. People will be passing out from my BO before we get a chance to scare them!
Plus? Your choice in weather patterns makes it all the weirder that Husband keeps trying to steal covers.
HIM: (tucking me) When I come back to bed, (yanks on covers) I’m going to want some of these.
ME: What for?
ME: You sleep next to this. (gestures grandly at self) That should keep you plenty warm.
HIM: Yes. (tugs) It should. (smoothes blanket)
ME: (gasps) Mean!
HIM: But this (flaps hands in my direction) has no bloods! (leaves)
ME: That hurts! I mean, it’s true… but still. You know, there’s a REASON THEY SAY THE TRUTH HURTS!
* You know what they say when you assume…
** That’s Fahrenheit, for non-Americans. Roughly translates into 26-33 Celsius or 300-305 Kelvin. Add in the humidemies and it’s too bloody warm, at least for this late in the year.