A Dry Heat

If I had to guess, I would surmise that “Yes, but it’s a dry heat” is as natural of a reaction to Phoenicians when someone says “It sure it hot out here,” as it is for Buckeye fans to shout out “I-O” whenever they hear “O-H!”

Yes. I’m perfectly aware that the absence of humidity makes it more bearable for the body to stand higher temperatures. I get that. Only, in the monsoon season there is humidity. And stupid me booked a trip Phoenix to visit a friend during monsoon season. First of all, the fact that Arizona has a monsoon season should have tipped me off. But luckily for me, my friend lives in the one area that seemed to get NO rain….just heat. And humidity.

It’s been a good weekend though. I got to see acres of roses in the desert. Which, to be perfectly honest is something I never even conceived of.

I got to swim in a swimming pool that was upwards of 80 degrees and feel like it was actually cooling my body down. Perception is a tricky thing.

Speaking of mindfucks. Yesterday would have been my 11th wedding anniversary. Since the paperwork isn’t official just yet, I guess technically it still was. My mind is going through some weird twists and turns lately. I mean, the dissolution is going to happen. Paperwork has been filled out and we both agree that irreconcilable is the theme. It’s just….weird.

I still very much love the woman I married. But I don’t know where the hell she went or when the fuck she left. I can say, though, that the woman I’m divorcing is not the woman I married. I know this is probably a broken record by now. I just need some way of flushing this from my head. And writing is the only way I know of at the point. So, I’m sorry my friends, you’re stuck with this.

I’ve got about 30 minutes before they start boarding our plane. That’s enough time for a few rounds of Words With Friends.


Peace out, yo.




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