By a guy who washed his car just in time for the rain to do it all over again.

There are hot days, and then there are Richmond days in July, where stepping outside feels less like opening your front door and more like volunteering to be steamed like a dumpling.
It’s absurd.
Even Georgie has had enough. Normally, he’s ready for a proper walk, tail wagging, nose inspecting every blade of grass in the neighborhood. Now he looks outside, takes one sniff of the air, gives me the sort of look usually reserved for people who put pineapple on pizza, and quietly retreats back into the house. Our afternoon walks have become negotiations with Mother Nature, and Mother Nature isn’t interested in compromise.
The plants aren’t coping much better. They stand there all day under a blazing Virginia sun looking as though they’re about to unionize. If plants had lawyers, there’d already be a lawsuit demanding protection from cruel and unusual humidity. Every leaf seems to be saying, “We did not sign up for this.”
The birds have disappeared entirely. I don’t know where they’ve gone. Perhaps they’ve booked a weekend in Maine. The squirrels, usually sprinting around like tiny caffeinated acrobats, have also vanished. Maybe they’ve discovered air conditioning. Either that or they’ve simply melted into the trees.
Only the tomatoes seem delighted by the whole affair.
While every other living thing is questioning its life choices, the tomatoes are behaving like they’ve just checked into an all-inclusive Caribbean resort. Bigger. Redder. Happier. Frankly, they’re becoming rather smug about it.
Yesterday morning, before the atmosphere turned into hot soup, I decided to wash the car. It was one of those rare moments when everything goes perfectly. The paint gleamed. The windows sparkled. I even stood back with that ridiculous sense of satisfaction only a freshly cleaned car can provide.
Then I went inside, sat down with a cup of coffee, switched on the television…
…and it rained.
Not a polite little shower, either. A proper Richmond downpour, complete with enough dirty water to undo every minute of effort I’d just invested. Somewhere up above, the weather was clearly having a laugh.
That’s the thing about summer here. You spend half the day trying to avoid becoming dehydrated, the other half trying to avoid getting soaked, and somehow achieve neither.
Roll on October.
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My book, Hidden Alignment is still available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle for those interested. Link and QR code below.
Link: https://a.co/d/0enjFI6f

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