Texas summers make pools feel like boiling water, rubber tennis shoe soles melt to the pavement and shoulders turn bright red. And they make my car turn into a very large Hansel and Gretel style oven, heated by the essence of 16 suns and a habanero pepper(s). With that kind of heat in the forecast, my initial tentative plans for an awesome summer fall apart.
Of course I love being burned by the leather every time I sit in my 134 degree fahrenheit car. And if I love that, then I absolutely adore the seat belt buckles that leave angry red marks wherever I accidentally touch them while trying to buckle up, safety first. And we can’t forget about the steering wheel that absorbs the power of the sun and unleashes it onto my poor, unsuspecting hands when I try to drive.
If I could, my summer would be spent somewhere else, not Texas. I’m thinking somewhere where the temperature for the summer doesn’t make it into the triple digits. So, probably nowhere near Texas. I love Texas, but I also love not getting third degree burns when I go get the mail.
Unfortunately, as much as I want my summer to consist of standing on beautiful sandy beach (not in Texas), with my toes in the sand, and the warm sun shining down on my face I know that my summer will be anything but. Especially considering the whole, can’t drive anywhere, car feels like it’s a ball of fire thing, and using my air conditioning would be like trying to put out a fire with a watering can.
My plans for summer never work out; my idea of planning doesn’t ever get anything done. I plan to eventually make a plan and that creates a paradox of procrastination that never ends. Besides my stunning abilities at planning, I suffer from an extreme form of laziness that also feeds into my lack of planning.
This ends up with my lazy self sitting on a couch with a bag of chips (and a few already empty bags) beside me watching movie after Netflix movie.
After watching “Killer Klowns from Outer Space” four times in the span of one week, my brain will turn to mush. And while brain mush is a delicacy among cannibals and zombies, it doesn’t help much with actual thinking; thankfully I should be able to pass through my senior year without anyone noticing. Looking forward to next year.
