There aren’t enough cliches for the heat in Arizona in the summer time. I know — I heard them all when I moved here at the end of July. But I guess I can stand it because I’m not getting out of the kitchen any time soon.
Unfortunately, the heat doesn’t just apply to the temperature. I’m not gonna lie, It’s been hell.
Since I arrived, I’ve learned that parenting a challenging child is the toughest job I’ll ever do, blending families isn’t easy, finding fulfilling employment with zero local contacts is impossible, renting out your house from 800 miles away is stupid, making new friends at my age is awkward, money doesn’t grow on cactus any more than it does on trees, the sun is hot, water is wet and several other profound truths I can’t recall at the moment.
Fortunately, there have been some signs of improvement with the mad middle-schooler, a job was eventually secured, I’m not homeless, November started off in the mid-80s with no foreseeable forecast of snow, and the main reason I moved here is still my main squeeze in spite of it all. Crazy man.
So maybe I can stand the heat after all, stay in the kitchen a little longer, while resisting temptation to stick my head in the oven. (Because it’s electric and I need to ration the power for the air conditioning.) Obviously.