The blog days of summer

They say that the hottest fires in hell are reserved for those who, in times of crisis, maintain their neutrality. Here on earth, however, it would seem that the hottest temperatures are reserved for those of us who, in times of sheer stupidity, decided to live in the American Southwest.

Here in the great state of Despair (pop. 6,666,666), the temperature was nearly 80 degrees Fahrenheit while riding my bike to the dungeon this morning at 8 am. It's supposed to be 92 by the time I head home. As much as I love riding my bike, this heat is going to kill me. Or at least it would if I wasn't already a reanimated demonic skeleton bent on torture and conquest.

Oh well. At least it's a dry heat.

I've always hated summer, but this year is shaping up to be a doozy. It's gonna be long and hot, which does not bode well for either my excercise regimine or my utility bills. I miss winter already.

Personally, I've always had a somewhat backwards view of the seasons. To me, summer is a time of stagnation. It's a time when everything is hot, nothing is comfortable, and I always feel tired and out of place.

Winter, on the other hand, has always been a season of renewal and life to me. Cold is clean and new and energizing. It makes me feel alive. And if it decides to actually snow, as it does about once or twice a decade around here, then to me that is the essence of life at it's purest.

Hey, even Overlords are allowed to wax poetic now and then.