It's bloody hot here today. The weather's been monkeying around for a while that even monkeys are complaining. Not that I know this for a fact nor do I carry the monkey genetic information. Although my other half would love to start a debate on that, for all unknown intent and vague purposes, let's just ignore him please.

Here's one of my rambling postings. I am very sensitive to all sorts of things including bullshit that it should not be a revelation that I'm sensitive to weather changes. Heck, the worms in the dark moist soil are too. Nothing special here. It's just that I have this bizarre need to whine about the weather. Like by my ranting about it, the lords of the tropical weather will be appeased. I'm not that naive though. The moon is my only Savior.

Today, in the evening, as I awaken from my sticky slumber, I could feel the sun knocking angrily at my door. It seemed to be begging for my attention the way a whiny overly curious child would to an indifferent parent. I opened the door (from my room) and was immediately blinded by a hellish heavenly-light courtesy of the giant ball of fire that floated in the sky. It was so extremely bright that it'd transformed the curtains into some kind of transparent pieces of crappy material. I walked quickly grabbing a towel without really opening my eyes and stormed into the bathroom for a reprieve..

..that was brilliantly shattered when it was freakin' heavenly-bright in there as well! The screaming sunlight was following me everywhere even as I showered! I could be exaggerating but it felt as though I was bathing in a wallless altar for the sun god to judge. Okay, that was an exaggeration. Do I need to apologize? Heck no.

On a serious note, though: What is up with the wrinkle-inducing, throat-desicatting, eye-blinding, skin-scalding, armpit-watering weather? It's just too extreme, my dear silly weather. You've got to give us, little people a break! And by that I don't mean calling your thunderous lightning buddies and fat chummy clouds to drum our roofs and little hairy and occasionally-bald heads with violent dollops of water for hours on end.

Are you trying to tell us something by your magnificent adolescent moodiness? I swear we'll listen; but I'm not sure the whole of the 'we' here gets the gist of your message. Or are you telling me, specifically to get all of the windows tinted as dark as Van Gogh's starry night sky? And wear nothing except for my earrings, coconut shell bangles, a lone ring on my finger and a look of complete acceptance on my face?


Sometimes, I feel like the wriggly worms know more than me. They know how and where to tunnel down deeply without the gift of sight. And they do it instinctively.

Image Credit:
Sun & Moon by Universal UV
Thank God I'm Not An Earth Worm by Natalie Dee