Because — and I don’t want to be too forward here — I was kinda halfway thinking maybe that I might call it up and invite it over, and we could order takeout from Camy’s, and maybe drink some Viognier and maybe watch Wet Hot American Summer, and, I dunno, maybe grope each other awkwardly on my couch.
Because, well, I really like this weather.
It sure is marvelous, but I swear I keep feeling like I need to check the calendar and make sure it’s really the middle of August, and make sure I’m actually still in Memphis. Between this and that big snowstorm in the middle of March, I don’t know what to make of it all.
Hoping that I won’t have to buy a new heater this year two months early in September, or that it won’t be 100 degrees at Christmas.
I only have the email for last year’s blistering heat wave…but it’s yours if you want it.
L, I was joking with some friends the other night about how hard it is to enjoy the weather when you’re constantly having to give it the stink eye of suspicion.
FW, No thanks. Me and that heat wave? Well, what we had was intense, but I’m not sure I’m up for it again.