Tuesday's High: 99
Wednesday's High: 101
Thursday's High: 102
Rain Since June 1st: 2.5"
(Linguistic Note for Non-Southerners: In common parlance down here, "ill" is synonymous with "cranky, irritated, and generally pissed off." It is pronounced with two syllables. A person in this state should not be trifled with.)
Every day that I arrive home before dark, I walk around each of my flowerbeds to see how things are doing. On Tuesday, the rose looked fine. Today, I go out and find every leaf brown and brittle. This is a rose that has thrived on neglect for years in the hottest part of the yard. Was this week just the final straw?
Weather like this makes me wonder why I even bother. I come home and find my plants dead or dying because I lack both the time and the money to soak them with water every day. Then I spend what few hours I have between work and bedtime standing out in the jungle heat, holding a hose and getting bitten by mosquitoes that are probably carrying West Nile virus, just so I can keep my few remaining plants that look like this...
Maybe I ought to just give up gardening, cocoon myself in air-conditioned comfort, lie on the sofa eating Chee-Tos and watching stupid television shows like the rest of America, never setting foot outside except to go from house to car to Wal-Mart. A lot of people seem perfectly happy doing that.
But no, I'm that idiot with the watering can, trying to coax plants back to life, promising them, swearing to them that if they can just hang on a bit longer, a cloud will appear in the sky and their roots will again know the taste of rain. They no longer believe me.