Skylar said it was "hot" and he was "sweaty" so that's why it was a good idea for him to take his shirt off and go sit on the furniture. I told him this wasn't my preferred choice for him, but he laughed it off like he always does when he doesn't want to argue anymore.

Strong plot. Sexual content. Twist ending. pic.twitter.com/5qQgeB62DDSeptember 23, 2020

We're in that weird time of year where the iceberg that sunk the Titanic floats down our street every night and then all the fires of hell descend upon us by 10:00 AM.  "Just open all the windows. It's September." I hear myself saying every year around this time, as though God has designated this month for consistent temperature control.

We open the windows, and we bake during the day and shiver in hypothermic misery all night.

"September is the best. So pleasant. So lovely." I insist.

I claim it's the one month that really is just right. In reality, it's the one month where I'm uncomfortable nearly all the time.

I wore a sweater to the class I teach the other day because it seemed like it might be cold. Forty-five minutes later I stood in front of a class of masked students trying desperately not to raise my arms for fear they'd see my sides were fully drenched in sweat.

My friend John Michael did a monologue for me on this several years ago. I was an audience of one, but a good audience nonetheless, laughing and clapping and gasping the way I imagine you all do when you read this site.

He said that no matter where you are in the world, inconsistent temperatures or weather patterns elicit the exact same response. It can be blue skies one minute and then pouring rain the next, and undoubtedly a middle-aged woman named Andrea or a middle-aged man named Richard will pop out of nowhere, shake their head, smile, and say "only in ____!"

"Only in Utah!" they say here every September when a temperature swing of 40 degrees meets us from one day to the next.

"If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes!" they'll shout, as though they live in the one place on the planet that experiences seasons and micro-fluctuations in weather patterns.

"Only in everywhere since the beginning of time." John Michael hypothetically responded to the hypothetical Andrea and Richard as he concluded his monologue to my thunderous applause.

I walked into the house a few minutes ago to find Skylar in the same chair from above, again shirtless. "It's so hot again," he complained. "It was freezing this morning!"

"Only in Utah!" I sarcastically responded as he rolled his eyes at me.

We really should have invented an outdoor thermostat by now.

I mean, really.

P.S. please go read this new piece I wrote about going through puberty in a roller skating rink in the 90s. Muchos gracias.

~It Just Gets Stranger