Beached wail

You know, I had about eleventy billion loads of laundry to do today. Which was made impossible by the fact that, during the last month-plus, I’ve only been home to sleep and shower. So today it was further made impossible by the fact that there was no detergent with which to do my laundry.

Wouldn’t it be nice if you had someone who lived in your abode and took care of these things and replaced shit after it was used up? Oh, wait. …

So I ran to Boutique Tar-zhay to get detergent. And while I was out and dressed for absolute crap (my weekend uniform is a tank top and shorts. And since today IS my weekend, there you have it), I headed to the shore.

I put my two hours’ worth of change into the meter, parked my ass on a lounger, Tweeted that I was on the beach and … six minutes after my arrival, thunder cracked and some sort of air-raid siren went off. Yes, the beach was being evacuated.

Meanwhile it was about 90-odd degrees and super-sunny and the sand felt like it were on fire. ( assured me “IT’S FUCKING HOT.”) I walked up to the water with my camera — having fully planned to walk along it for an hour or so — and some douche in an ATV nearly ran me over and shouted at me that the water was closed.

He got a double-barreled salute out of me. Hey, I’m a grown woman and if I want to get hit by lightning and float away in the ocean and wind up in Africa or something, SO BE IT. And did I LOOK like I was there to swim? Bah.

So there went my day off. Six whopping minutes at the beach and eleventy billion loads of laundry that are in progress.

I hung out on Ocean Avenue for a while, mostly just to recoup some of what I’d fed the parking meter. I finally gave up and, I tell ya, as soon as I pulled away, the thunder cracked and the skies opened up.

Four minutes later when I got home, the sun came out again and it was like nothing had ever happened. Until an hour later when the next monsoon hit and flooded my bedroom and balcony. That was almost as fun as losing power.

Gotta love South Florida in the summertime, I hear. The only thing that would save this day is an early bedtime, which would work if my sheets and duvet cover weren’t in the dryer. …

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