Two(?) days ago, the skies let loose in an almighty torrent of rain. You can bet your sweet knickers I was out in it, splashing about and generally looking like a fool to all my neighbors.

What can I say, I’m a water rat.

And as I’m sitting in my living room, sundress plastered to my body like a second skin, letting the window fan blow over me and dry some of the moisture dripping from my hair and nose, a siren warbling in the distance, I receive a text message:

aw, michigan’s so happy to see you again that it got you a ‘welcome back’ tornado

I grinned, responded, then proceeded to forget about it. For a time. But the message kept creeping back into my head, worming its way through whatever mindless drivel was sludging its way through my neural pathways.

You can’t stop the signal, right?

So, instead of just pushing it aside, I decided to think about it. And I find myself rather enamored with the idea. That something could miss me, crave me, want me back so badly that, when I arrive, it literally erupts in a storm of passion. Furious, magnificent, dangerous, wild. To think I could have that kind of power over something is a heady thought. Over someone would be the only thing more scintillating.

Who doesn’t want the skies to gush forth great tears of joy at one’s arrival? Who doesn’t want to spark a whirlwind of fulfillment just by returning to a certain zipcode (okay… technically I live in a different zipcode than I did last time I was here)? Who doesn’t want to feel that needed, that desired, that (dare I say) loved?

Anyway, I think it’s a pretty notion. Whether or not that’s just the addled musings of my gooey brain as I sweat it out of all the new pores I’ve grown to combat the heat is still up in the air.

Yes, I said I grew new pores. I must have. It’s the only way my body can cope with my air conditioning deciding to crap out yesterday. I spent the day lying naked on my couch in front of that same window fan as before (when I really should have been sleeping, seeing as I had to work last night), panting like a dog and excreting more sweat from my skin than could possibly be inside me. If a biologist/anatomist were to examine my epidermis right now, they would rush me to a lab for study. Surely there is no human out there that has evolved such a massive amount of sweat-spewing pores on their body. I think my body may have even invented new structures.

For the record, none of it is working.

I bought a bigger fan today to compensate.

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