The last 11 days have been an adventure. When I’m not dodging small overhead aircrafts (read: bugs), or panicking that every dark cloud will morph into a tornado, or worrying that there is a 15-foot alligator behind every snapped branch and leaf rustle, then I’m sweating profusely and wondering at what temperature it becomes possible for human bodies to legitimately melt.
But I’m adjusting. Pinky swear. It’s really not that bad and I tend to be a bit dramatic.
At times like this, I inadvertently channel Carrie Bradshaw. If you replace the squirrel in this clip with any of the over-sized critters indigenous to the South, then this could serve as a fairly accurate portrayal of my first week (minus the log cabin, of course).