A Letter From Miss Sas: Surviving a Wiregrass Summer

Dear Friend,

Can we just have a moment of silence for everybody surviving a Wiregrass summer?

The second I step outside in July, it's like walking face first into a wall of hot, thick air. My glasses fog up instantly, and before I've even made it to the chicken coop, the humid-i-titties have already set in.

And if that wasn't enough, I've also got sweat running down the middle of my back like somebody turned on a faucet.

Then come the gnats…and the mosquitoes. I'm convinced about 84% of them live right here in the Wiregrass, and the other 16% are just visiting family.

Even the chickens are out there looking like mouth breathers, wondering whose bright idea it was to live in Alabama.

Honestly, by July my hair just does whatever it wants. I just happen to be carrying it around.

From June through September, I identify as a spoiled, fluffy, chonky house cat. Don't invite me anywhere that requires me to be outside longer than it takes to get from Tawanda to the air conditioning. I'll catch back up with y'all sometime around October.

To make matters worse, our living room windows were so fogged up yesterday that Winston and Ozzy couldn't even see the birds outside. We finally had to open the window so they could enjoy the view.

If that's not a Wiregrass summer... I don't know what is.

Now don't get me wrong...

Come October, I'll be the first one telling everybody there's nowhere prettier than the Wiregrass.

But until then...

Y'all can keep these humid-i-titties.