I tried to kill myself today although not really. I waited until it was good and toasty out there to walk and decided to go the sidewalk route today which is hotter than the woods-and-meadow route but easier on the feet with less chance of contracting a tick-born illness.
Oh, you stupid bitch, Ms. Moon!
I got to the county line which is one mile from my house and where the sidewalk ends and decided to just keep going, maybe up to the little bridge which is one and one half miles from my house and I did get to within sight of the little bridge but by then I knew I'd screwed the pooch and turned around, praying I'd not slump over and die from the heat.
I did see these.
And then got in closer to see that two of the black-eyed susans were wearing bees like matching accessories.
Can you see them?
I also saw swallow-tail kites, soaring high, high up in the blue sky, always a wonder to behold but my feelings of imminent death made them a little less interesting.
As I was within a third of a mile of home, I passed a church where a man was outside painting. He waved and held up a finger and ran into the church and so I stopped, standing in the sun, until he came back out with two cold bottles of water. He tried to give me both but I only took one, saying, "I'm almost home. Thank-you so much!"
And then he hugged me, his body as sweaty as mine and said, "God bless you!" and I, standing there in his hug, said, "And God bless you too!"
And by the power of will and water I made it back to my shady yard, took off my shoes and my pants and got into the kid pool and all was well with the world again.
Well, relatively. Summer is going to try and kill us here no matter what. The tiny ants that somehow find their way to my personal body to sting me have arrived again and Mr. Moon has such horrible poison ivy that I'm not sure how he functions. I'd be in the emergency room whereas he's down at the auto auction in Orlando which is a whole other sort of hell, about a million acres of asphalt and cars.
What can you do? Sit on the porch and drink water and find the tiny ants and squish them and wonder where in HELL they come from and listen to the rooster talking to the rooster next door and occasionally go get in the little plastic pool and plan a trip to the river and hang out the clothes and be grateful, be grateful, be maxima grateful for cold water and for its application both internally and externally and for strangers who look out for you and call down blessings upon you from their god and for air conditioning and ice cubes and refrigeration and also for babies who learn to clap their hands and for their mamas who send you videos of said hand-clapping and for the joy of all of that and more.
The swallow-tail kites soar on the thermals of heat and we can only do our best to do the same.