Summer is Garbage, and I Don’t Care Who Knows It
Today’s heat index will be 108 degrees. Seriously. ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT DEGREES OF MISERY is in the forecast, and I am dying.
I hate summer. Summer is a garbage season. It’s hot as heck, and nothing, NOTHING can make it better. Sure, I can be inside and wrapped in the icy embrace of my air conditioning, but what about those moments in which I am forced to venture out into the vast and desolate hellscape that is outside in July?
Why did people settle here? Was it winter, and were they deceived into believing that this was a temperate climate? Or was it summer and were they just like–meh–this is far enough? Just…. ugh. I think Bobby Hill said it best.
If you need me, I’ll be figuring out how to move to Alaska.