Holy shit, it’s June 28, which means the year is more than half through and where in the hell is 2012 going and why the hell is it going there so quickly?
Work is unbearably slow this week, making for a tortuous return to my 9-5 after a breezy and relaxing week on the beaches of North Carolina. Which would also explain why you didn’t get any posts last week, including a Mishap. Which would also explain why you felt that painful, throbbing void in your life around midweek.
I haven’t actually lived in North Carolina for years, and I lived in Michigan far longer than any other place, but every single time I get back on that southern soil, I feel like I’m home. Like every time I pull up to a gas station that’s selling boiled peanuts and has weathered, old men sitting around cafe tables smoking cigarettes like the statewide smoking ban of 2009 never f–king happened. Or every time I step outside and the humidity is so thick and the heat is so dense it literally feels heavy on my skin. Or every time I’m trying to reverse out of a parking space next to a minivan crawling with kids and the dad hollers into my open window: Come on, sweethart, jest roll on back instead of shouting obscenities about how I’m trying to run over his brood. And every time I’m just like: Yeah, I’m home, bitches.
And that’s why the horseshit that is Amendment One just felt like a bad breakup. Because I’m not a Northerner who scoffs at the perceived backwards, backwater stupidity that is the southern population. I’m a converted Northerner who craves a sweet southern drawl, enjoys the slow, friendly pace of southern life, and recognizes that backwards, ignorant thought and southern living are not mutually exclusive. Still, discriminatory state law aside, it was good to go back.
So we spent the whole week in what basically constituted a frat house, which would have been fun for 2 days or miserable for 7 days, except that it was beachfront with its own pool and if you woke up early enough to see the sunrise nothing else really mattered.
And while I considered taking some time to write, the pool and the beach and eating peppered Mahi Mahi steaks won out in the end because, well, I’m more committed to my tan and my stomach than I am to blogging, apparently. But while I was sunning myself, my BFF from the days when I was a resident of NC was concentrating on the blog for me because she’s good like that. And you might be thinking what the hell kind of non sequitur, disjointed rant is going on here and where is my goddamn Mishap already? Or I don’t know maybe you’re not all as angry and impatient as I imagine you to be. The point is, it doesn’t matter how long I drag this out before the big reveal, because it’s really so, so good. It’s so good that at first glance I didn’t even realize I was looking at a pregnancy photo. I thought maybe it was just a random photo of unattractive people looking pensive or forlorn and holding a small woodland creature like a raccoon or a badger? But, no. It was so much more. So thank you, dear friend, for your contribution to the weekly Mishap while I was out gallivanting on our old southern stomping grounds.