That Time Again

This short post is merely to affirm what we already knew: the Mojave Desert is not a place ideally suited for human habitation.

We learned this late last night when, upon walking into Miss Gokey's dwelling, we discovered the AC blowing wildly in an attempt to cool the house to a pre-set 85. It was blowing hot air, and the internal temperature of the house was...99.

The poor thing had to sleep over here, on the lone couch which is an island in a sea of school-paper.

I told Krista today that in the event of catastrophe, we must surely just curl up on the ground and wait to perish.

I told her that when she stopped by to sit on the Island of Lone Couch and behold the sea of school-paper. I've long been a fan of the drop-by, ever since my first one back in October 2000. Today, I got some souvenirs (I typed "swag" first but deleted it because let's face it, I'm not that cool) from the Harry S. Truman museum and library in Independence, MO.

Now that I as a human have become spoiled to air conditioning, it is necessary to my survival in the Mojave.

You know what state doesn't have this problem? Indiana! At least, that's what my mind tells me as I RUN back to the house from the mailbox half a block away, because I forgot to bring my Nalgene bottle with me. Last week, when I received ice trays in the mail from Wisconsin, I decided to make meals out of ice cubes made of juice.

In conclusion, I am ready to go back to school tomorrow. There's nothing like walking into a house where the air is nearly boiling to make a person appreciate the nice cool recirculated air in a building jointly supported by taxpayer and casino money. This year, I resolve to give the people what they pay for. Power to the people. And freon. Power and freon for us all.

Just so you know, loyal readers...

you are welcome to come visit, any time.