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August 4, 2023
August Purgatory
By Mikie Baker
The Bandera Prophet
I’ve always thought I was lucky I wasn’t raised Catholic, because I’d never have to go to Purgatory. But now I find myself smack in the middle of that hell.
You see, I believe that the first two weeks of August are Purgatory in Texas. It’s the hottest time of the year and there is nothing to do but hibernate in the house surrounded by blessed cool air conditioning. So let me explain to you why this is the worst part of the year.
Weathermen No Longer Lie
We all know weatherpersons lie. They’re not even right half the time when it comes to rain or snow. Being a gardener, I have a true love/hate relationship with these “so called” meteorologists. I need to know the exact moment it’s going to freeze so I can save all the plants. But this time of year, they never lie.
“It’s going to be 104 today with a heat index of 112. Have a nice day.” And they’re spot on. Gee thanks. Tell gardeners the truth as their tomatoes fry on the vine.
There is No Football
Seriously, this is torture. The other day I caught myself watching sailing races. I’m pretty sure the only thing more boring is the National Cornhole Championship. I watched that, too. There’s no Howie in a purple suit with matching tie but there’s plenty of guys doing "X Sports." They make me dizzy. There. Is. No. Football.
Terrible Summer Shows
I don’t want to hear you sing off key, I don’t want to see your worst prank, I don’t want to know which bachelor you pick, I don’t want to wonder why you are naked and deserted on an uncharted island. But luckily, I can watch NCIS and FBI reruns all summer because I don’t remember the original episodes anyway. I guess that’s one good thing about memory loss.
Chili is Out of the Question
I’ve boiled more shrimp in the last month than Forest Gump. I’m afraid to eat beef. It’s too hot. I think I might be getting scurvy. What I’ve heard is that ice cream can prevent disease. In fact, I’m having fantasies about a large chili-dipped DQ cone.
The Shedding Factor
Because we live in the country, the house is always dusty, but now it’s also hairy. With two dogs, two cats and over 100 degrees on a daily basis, the critters, who now all live inside, believe their job is twofold: bring in all the dust and dirt from outside and then shed all the hair you’ve got. “We’re all going bald, so deal with it.” Can you vacuum a dog?
Water Hogs
I have a gazillion potted plants on the front porch. Every morning, as I wake up, I can hear their cries, “Water us! Right now! We are dying out here while you are inside where’s it’s cool. Why can’t we come inside like we do in the winter? Why do you hate us so much?” Around here, guys, it’s survival of the fittest.
Exercise
Let me just say, if you were ever going to go on a diet, summer’s the time to do it. Who wants heavy, fattening food? Not me. I want shrimp. As for exercise, when I take my morning walk, I must leave the house at 6:45 a.m. so I can get in half an hour before the sun rises over the mountain and blinds me. Plus, it’s the only time of the day I can feel just a hint of cool before the furnace is turned on.
Other than that, living in August Purgatory is hell.
You see, I believe that the first two weeks of August are Purgatory in Texas. It’s the hottest time of the year and there is nothing to do but hibernate in the house surrounded by blessed cool air conditioning. So let me explain to you why this is the worst part of the year.
Weathermen No Longer Lie
We all know weatherpersons lie. They’re not even right half the time when it comes to rain or snow. Being a gardener, I have a true love/hate relationship with these “so called” meteorologists. I need to know the exact moment it’s going to freeze so I can save all the plants. But this time of year, they never lie.
“It’s going to be 104 today with a heat index of 112. Have a nice day.” And they’re spot on. Gee thanks. Tell gardeners the truth as their tomatoes fry on the vine.
There is No Football
Seriously, this is torture. The other day I caught myself watching sailing races. I’m pretty sure the only thing more boring is the National Cornhole Championship. I watched that, too. There’s no Howie in a purple suit with matching tie but there’s plenty of guys doing "X Sports." They make me dizzy. There. Is. No. Football.
Terrible Summer Shows
I don’t want to hear you sing off key, I don’t want to see your worst prank, I don’t want to know which bachelor you pick, I don’t want to wonder why you are naked and deserted on an uncharted island. But luckily, I can watch NCIS and FBI reruns all summer because I don’t remember the original episodes anyway. I guess that’s one good thing about memory loss.
Chili is Out of the Question
I’ve boiled more shrimp in the last month than Forest Gump. I’m afraid to eat beef. It’s too hot. I think I might be getting scurvy. What I’ve heard is that ice cream can prevent disease. In fact, I’m having fantasies about a large chili-dipped DQ cone.
The Shedding Factor
Because we live in the country, the house is always dusty, but now it’s also hairy. With two dogs, two cats and over 100 degrees on a daily basis, the critters, who now all live inside, believe their job is twofold: bring in all the dust and dirt from outside and then shed all the hair you’ve got. “We’re all going bald, so deal with it.” Can you vacuum a dog?
Water Hogs
I have a gazillion potted plants on the front porch. Every morning, as I wake up, I can hear their cries, “Water us! Right now! We are dying out here while you are inside where’s it’s cool. Why can’t we come inside like we do in the winter? Why do you hate us so much?” Around here, guys, it’s survival of the fittest.
Exercise
Let me just say, if you were ever going to go on a diet, summer’s the time to do it. Who wants heavy, fattening food? Not me. I want shrimp. As for exercise, when I take my morning walk, I must leave the house at 6:45 a.m. so I can get in half an hour before the sun rises over the mountain and blinds me. Plus, it’s the only time of the day I can feel just a hint of cool before the furnace is turned on.
Other than that, living in August Purgatory is hell.