So…yeah. The sweaty nightmare continues. As we scribble, Wunderground claims the temperature outdoors is 103°. The back porch thermometer, sequestered under the shade of a north-facing roof, reads 111°…. Yeah.
Yard dudes have screwed up the watering system. Had to fart with that and fart with that and fart with that some more, trying to fix it. Still don’t know whether I’ve got it right.
How do I hate this place? Let me count the ways.
Trust me: if my son weren’t here, I would be in the San Francisco Bay Area right now. That’s whence I emanated, and it’s where some of my relatives still live.
Wherever I might wander…you may be sure I would NOT remain in this superheated hell-hole.
Hmmmmm…. Where might I wander, anyhow?
* San Francisco Bay Area (fir$t choice)
* San Diego (a little warmer than I’d like, but it’s a neat place.)
* Prescott (an Arizona small town graced by a sophisticated private college. Pretty place to live.)
* Suburbs of Tucson (the University of Arizona provides a fairly rich cultural life to Tucson. And the weather’s not as hot there as it is in Phoenix.)
I can’t afford to live in the San Francisco Bay area, my first choice. And the truth is, none of those other places are any better than where I am.
In fact, where I am is better than those places, because my honored son is here. If he were to move someplace else, I very well might follow him. But I’m not likely to move away from him.
Because between the two of us, he’s the one who still has a functioning brain. ;-D
Seriously…he does navigate 21st-century society about ten times better than I do. He understands things that have come into being since I quit paying attention to those things. He knows how to resolve issues that mystify me. And he rides herd on the hired help one helluva lot more efficiently than I do.
So…whither he goes, so go I. If he stays put, so do I.
😮