The outdoors is officially intolerable. No longer am I continuing relations with that enemy state. Done. Finished. I'm tearing up treaties faster than North Korea. I'm taking my ball and I'm going inside.
From July 2 through the long weekend and beyond, it rained here. Big rain. None of this Seattle "it's like living in a fog bank of moist droplets." None of these Midwestern squalls that howl through in late spring. No, no. It rained here. Like you say "rrrrrrrr-aaayned" in the thick, guttural voice of a blues singer. It Sweet Baby Rains. It pours.
If you're out driving in this weather, the droplets hit the windshield like pancakes, both in their size and the satisfying f-wap sound they make when they smack the car, the pavement. Windshield wipers simply cannot keep up. You peer through the window, as though somehow being closer to the glass will make it easier to see. And, since all of this rain is falling on a town with infrastructure that dates back to when Napoleon owned the city, you of course will not see the puddle that is probably knee deep and growing on the side of the road. You will hit it with that sickening slowing of one side of the car and the (hopefully only) momentary feel of the tire leaving the road. So, yeah, driving hasn't been on my to do list in last week's weather.
Moreover, the outdoors are threatening right now simply because of their gargantuan size. Temperatures and humidity have been hovering around 90 (degrees and percent) so, plants are taking over. Like in Indiana Jones movies where the jungle has reclaimed the ancient ruins, so to is my yard, my house, my town being assaulted by the encroaching wilds. Indeed, my neighbor's wisteria has grown from a mere strand of vines to a botanical boa constrictor. The grass, like Homer Simpson's beard, looks instantly after a clipping as though it needs it again. You can watch the weeds grow. Literally.
The gorgeous oaks are filled with ferns that have taken hold in the bark. I love that--plants growing ON plants. And ferns growing in between bricks, on balconies and in between roof tiles. All of these plants whittling in from the outside, threatening. The Green Giant on steroids. And you are bringing everything short of Napalm to the party. There isn't enough Round Up in the world to fight these weeds. These plants are laughing at your Round Up. They have roots fed on gallons of water. Tons of water. These weeds are going nowhere, Bud.
While the flora conspire for the ground assault, corrosion is working to destroy the support network. We are far enough from the bay and the ocean not to feel the water's refreshing breeze, but to have the disadvantage of the briny dew the salt water leaves behind. The humidity and the fog are eating my barbecue as though it were a smorgasbord. Every last screw driver, can of paint, shovel and clippers that I store outside are rusted to such extent that I got a booster on my tetanus shot. The wrought iron on the porch (I'm pretty sure) is held together by the paint alone. There are only two allies in this battle--Rustoleum and WD40.
And finally, these rains. These torrential monsoons. They bring the worst enemy of all. The enemy that's brought civilizations and nations to their knees. An evil that has halted canals, obliterated colonies. Malaria, sickness, fever, all spread through the world by (DUM Dum dum) MOSQUITOES. That's right. Those evil effers are out in force since the rain. I mean, these mosquitoes were throwing mosquito orgies under azalea bushes. These male mosquitoes didn't even have to TRY to think of cheezy come-ons to get a female mosquito. He just had to buzz vaguely in her direction. The UGLY male mosquitoes were getting laid after the rains. And now in some revolting post-rain baby boom, they're feasting on us. They're sucking our blood just as surely as the boomers will suck our Social Security.
The scabby baby population among us is growing. I see all these kids and their poor legs are just covered in bites, scratch marks and scabs. It's like a horrible war of attrition--we send our kids out to play because it's fun and it's good for them. And we're sending them out as meals for these mosquitoes. Just giant cocktails waiting to be drunk by disgusting bugs. Insects so unconquerable that I think they inject themselves with Raid in small doses until they are immune. Mosquitoes so virile they wear DEET as cologne. Deep Woods Off! is their aphrodisiac.
And so, since these forces of nature have aligned themselves in an Axis of Evil that would scare even ol' Ronnie Reagan himself. These are deep, dark, primeval forces. This powerful nature controlled by vast mythical forces. I can't fight it. Not even with legions of painters, gardeners and handymen. I am France in this war. These are the creepers and crawlers who will occupy my territory, my borders. I surrender.
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