No Sweat Zone

Did everybody enjoy summer 2011’s last weekend?  It’s kind of bittersweet around here — summer is by far our favorite season, and we’re always sorry to see it fade.  But at the same time, there’s a feeling of achievement, satisfaction, and a stack of fond memories to treasure.  If only we could remember.

You’d have to be a hermit (or a Floridian) not to appreciate the change in weather that started several weeks ago.  Sure there are still sun-and-heat intensity moments during the day, but they don’t endure.  Mornings are cooler.  Shadows are longer.  The letter carriers, UPS delivery men, Seventh Day Adventists, and real estate pimps who come to the door don’t smell quite as ripe as they approach.

When I mowed the lawn on Saturday, it was immediately evident that it had already changed to autumn mode.  It wasn’t as wet, thick, and resistant as it is all summer long.  Some of the landscaping’s green that fades under relentless summer sun had rejuvenated itself.  The mosquitoes moved more slowly.  When I slashed my forehead on citrus thorns and my feet on thistles, they bled more slowly.

But the sure sign is the return of Caveman and Cuntwife from their summer sojourn to redneck ranch, or whatever hellhole they go to every year around Memorial Day.  Yes, my next door neighbors are back, here to re-infest the neighborhood for another year.  It’s back to closing our windows against their noise, and keeping an eye out for their acts of “guerilla gardening” where they wait ‘til I’m not home to perform some minor act of vandalism on landscaping that bothers them, like a branch hanging over their six foot cement wall.  This is a continuing saga.  We’re on Year 23.

Summer winners, summer losers.

Anyway, it’s Sunday evening and we’re getting ready to head down to the Liquor and Rubber Balls Sports Emporium and Colonic Cleansing Clinic to meet Lu Senz and Duck Diamonds for the Eagles game.  I intend to gloat about the Phillies, of course, whose dramatic victory Saturday night clinched the division for the 5th straight year, and they will cheerfully advise me to go to hell and fuck myself.  In that order.  What are friends for?

So long, summer.

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2 Responses to No Sweat Zone

  1. Lu Senz says:

    Not the game you expected to see, was it?

    I looked for footage of Vick barfing up blood in the locker room, but couldn’t find it. Just a bunch of fans, but that’s considered normal in Philly, right?

  2. Hose B says:

    How is it that people actually say that Marilyn Monroe was fat?

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