Poor Pig and Mississippi Heat

Oh yeah
Summer has come to Mississippi.

Despite my most courageous intentions, I've closed the windows and turned on the AC. Two sweaty, sleepless nights was enough to break my resolve, but it's an incomplete surrender. Days I'm home, I walk to the window several times a day to take readings: if there seems to be a breeze in the branches of trees across the yard, if there's substantial cloud coverage, if it starts to rain... I turn off the "air."

Last year, living in New Orleans, it was a matter of pride. How could I claim to love New Orleans and then cower in air-conditioned rooms when she became her summertime self? Sweltering was proof of my love and the price required to call NOLA home.

This year, living in Gulfport, it's mostly a money issue. There's a great big utility bill on its way to me...I'm the little pig trembling behind the door of the straw house (albeit, an air-conditioned house) as the big bad wolf approaches.

Why is No Money always easier than Little Money?

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Last night I dreamed a group of friends made a gift of three tiny newborn animals. They were so new it was impossible to tell exactly what they were.

I looked at them and began spinning pretty stories in my head about the days of tenderness ahead.

The creatures began to uncurl from their fetal balls. They first turned into adorable big-eyed, furry, winged little things; but within seconds they morphed into drooling, pooping, noisy, cross-eyed horrors. I didn't want them any more but I tried to care for them, for a few days, for lack of a plan to get rid of them.

I woke from the dream feeling creepy--anxious and dissatisfied. I hadn't turned on the AC, thinking the night might be cool enough to sleep without it. The room was over-warm. I'd kicked the bedclothes into an angry knot in my sleep. I woke with my last words from the dream still echoing in my head-- "Oh shit! Now what do I do?"