It’s hot. HOT hot. Hot and extremely humid, and I can tell that from inside air conditioning.
I haven’t attempted to experience the hot first hand.
Instead of doing things I need to do, which would require acquainting myself with the heat, I’ve put them off. I don’t do well with extreme temperatures to start with, but with that migraine finally departing, I really didn’t want to fire up another cycle.
But the heat makes me tired and the air conditioning makes me tired and maybe I’m built for somewhere without the ups and downs. Where that would be, I don’t know.
Maybe that sip of iced coffee through a paper straw will help me to figure it out, whatever it is. Yes paper. I don’t like those metal ones.
Oh well.
Now we’re on Monday in the later half of June, and the month has disappeared like water through a grate. Each day we wake up to more crises and worse ones, and the people who are bewildered as though all of this never occurred to them.
I suppose they are the people who never believed the plate of fajitas was hot at the restaurant, either. They are the reason the servers are emphatic.
I guess the bewilderment is intended to evoke sympathy, to get us to baby them, to ameliorate the harm they’ve done as they continue to pretend they didn’t know they’d done anything, they haven’t done anything, this isn’t what they meant.
It only stokes my rage. It only deepens the well of my indifference, now seemingly bottomless.
Perhaps I could care less but I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
Because every story about a “military wife” being held continues to the point where the spouse says “I thought it would be criminals,” and it never fails to amaze me how they refused to understand that in the eyes of the guy they assumed would hurt someone else, the people they love are criminals for the very fact that they are here.
When you make a deal with the devil, you have to read the fine print.
In this case, not so fine print, and the chorus of 80 million voices telling you not to sign, but see Exhibit A: Hot Fajita Plates.
The story I saw this morning was one of the worst headlines, though, lamenting that the person snatched was, roughly, “a military wife still breastfeeding their infant daughter.” Not her name, not her as a human in her own right, but the real issue is the dad is now deprived of her services.
Like she was his property, taken by the government.
He’s also one of those “But he said criminals.”
Look, we are where we are, and I really don’t have anything to make you feel better about it. Republicans could end it all today if they wanted, including the rash use of weapons of war, the dispensing of any pretense that we have three co-equal branches of government.
Republicans could end it all. They have the entire power to do it. Today.
But they won’t.
Where does that leave us?
I really don’t know. Here, in the heat, here in the metaphorical heat, here in a future only those who cannot think things through could have wanted.
Anyway, on that cheery note, I shall leave you with the wish of a Monday that is the very best a Monday can be.
A Bit to Read 
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