This is it, I’ve found it… I’m in Hell.

Posted on | August 2, 2012 | 3 Comments

When I left J at daycare, one of the fathers held the door open for me and with a sweep of his hands, he gestured to the entire world and said “This is one of those days when I’d prefer to just stay here for the day.”

Yeah. It’s totally that kind of day.  It’s a paint on popsicle sticks day, a trace your hand with a giant purple crayon kind of morning.  It’s a sing songs and have cookies for snack, nap on a soft mat and pretend to be unicorns on the playground s0rt of morning.   It’s totally NOT a put on my little black dress and strappy heels and be a lawyer day.  It’s definitely not a sip coffee and discuss the pros and cons of moving forward with hearings or a “how about we settle that case” kind of day.

There’s something about today… the gray skies, the heavy air, the kick-you-in-the-face heat that comes at you like a swarm of zombie bees, hungry for whatever you’ve got and wherever you’re hiding it.  It’s the kind of day that makes you sorry that you went to school, sorry that you graduated, sorry that you aren’t independently wealthy and able to sit home and zone out on Full House re-runs wearing just a pair of shorts and a sports bra. 

Or maybe it’s not just today.  Because if I’m being honest, there’s really just something about summer here in the middle of Georgia that makes the only viable option for survival a shady grove of trees, a tall glass of icy lemonade and a man in white linen fanning you with one of those giant palm fronds.   Summer in Middle Georgia makes me sorry that I’m useful in any way.  It makes me long to be Scarlett O’Hara draped across a bed in nothing but her corset and “drawers” and have the cool breeze of a fan pound across my flesh. It makes me long for Savannah and the marsh breezes that would pour through my windows as J and I crossed the bridge to the islands, tickling my nose with the reminder of the salty stick of the air on the coast line. 

Here in middle Georgia, even the air conditioning isn’t enough.  The artificial chill of it only serves to remind you that outside, the heat is multiplying.  It’s like your body won’t adjust to the cool, won’t surrender to the hum of safety, the lull of cool, the false serenity of mechanical refreshment.  Every click of the thermostat is just a reminder, just a twenty dollar bill flushed down the toilet, just a wisp of softness against the hard truth that it is summer.  And it is hot as hell.

But it is Thursday, not Saturday, so I thanked the man for holding open the door for me, stepping back into the rush of heat already present at just before 8:00.  I clicked my heels across the parking lot and slid back into the stale-aired car, and made my way across town to the office.

Because it’s what we working folk do.  Even in the summer.  Even in the middle of Georgia.

Even when it’s a paint on popsicle sticks kind of day.

Comments

3 Responses to “This is it, I’ve found it… I’m in Hell.”

  1. The Resident Fat Ass
    August 2nd, 2012 @ 10:46 am

    you my friend…were born in the wrong time! You are SO much a 30’s, 40’s kind of girl!

  2. Jess
    August 2nd, 2012 @ 10:54 am

    Amen sister. It seems like we should get free passes because it’s the summer. Sigh.

  3. KeAnne
    August 2nd, 2012 @ 2:22 pm

    Yes. Summer in the South is awful. On the weekends, my husband and I talk ad nauseum about all the things we need to do but find ourselves sitting in the air-conditioned house, watching tv or surfing during nap time b/c it’s too damn hot and humid to do anything else.

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