I know it’s a cliché in boredom to talk about the weather, but can I please tell you some things about the weather here in New Wye of late?
In short, the world is ending. In long, read on:
This weekend has been fucking insane. First, Friday afternoon and evening and Saturday morning consisted of hell-torrent thunderstorms and tornadoes. Friday night I waited for a bit of a calm in the storm to venture out to the store and on the way back the rain started getting more and more impossible. Huge horrible sheets of water were obscuring everything around me. When I waited at an intersection for a drenched, pathetic-looking pedestrian to cross the street, the car behind me couldn’t see my car and thus ran right into me! Luckily we just bumped bumpers in such a way that neither car had a scratch on it, but hot damn did my life flash before my eyes.
The next morning I woke up to a storm that made it seem like the world was ending. There was barely a second of quiet between the chest-crushing thunderclaps. Rain was shooting out of the gutterpipes in 3-foot arcs and splashing down into what looked like a river running through the front yard. The sidewalk that runs along the front of my building and onto which my front door opens was under at least six inches of rushing water. I couldn’t even take the dog out to let him pee — what with his being so low to the ground he would have been washed away!
Only after observing all this did I check the weather for any warnings and found out that we were under two simultaneous tornado warnings, meaning two tornadoes had already been spotted in the area.
By Saturday afternoon, though, the rains and flooding had stopped and I tried to go out to an event at a local bookstore. By that time the sun was out and was actively steaming up all the water from the muddy ground and we were back to the typical hot and muggy soul-destroying weather that is New Wye on any average day. Indeed, my apartment (which defies the laws of science and remains between 75-85 F at all times no matter what my efforts) stayed at a foetid and suicide-inspiring 80 F all day. I tell you, hell is not a blazing inferno but rather a muggy, temperate, pantywaist sort of place. I suspect that I live there.
This morning, however, I was shocked – SHOCKED! – to look out my window and see, for the first time in over a year and only the second time since I moved to New Wye, snow.
MOTHERFUCKING BEAUTIFUL FROZEN WHITE SNOW!
HOLY CRAP IT IS SNOW!
Before we all get too excited over here, though, allow me to tell you this disheartening news: while the flakes are still coming down outside, they’re pretty wet flakes and the asphalt in my parking lot and on my street is warm enough to melt them as soon as they hit. The snow is still sticking to the grass but everywhere else it’s just gone to gray, sad slush and puddles. Of course it has. It is not even cold enough outside to warrant anything more than a sweater. This is New Wye, after all, heated with the sweat of twenty thousand sorority girls in fake tanning booths all across the city.
Oh, and my apartment still sits at 75 F.