Today, a dispatch from a poorly held position on bad terrain at the edge of battle. I seek reinforcements else I suffer an embarrassing rout.
The battle erupted as spring stirred recently to life from our fake Louisiana winter. The battlefield is our household thermostat.
One of the combatants is your correspondent, weakened and despondent after skirmishing for days without ceasing.
The other is (forgive this parenthetical interruption to delay delivery of the aching truth) my spouse. She is lovely, yes. And fierce in battle.
The distance between our armies is measured in degrees. I favor 70 at night and, deploying an index finger as infantry, so set the thermostat. “Seventy-five,” she declared before wheeling her cannon of a finger onto the battlefield.
And there we stand, separated by 5 degrees in what must be called the Battle of Fahrenheit Gap.
“I want to sleep comfortably,” I pleaded.
She countered that I’d increase our household carbon footprint twentyfold. And she invoked the dog as ally – as he lay twitching and snoring.
Oh, summer. Thou art wicked. And so very long.
More about spouses
Study: There are 2 kinds of people
(forgive this parenthetical interruption to delay delivery of the aching truth) —and, of course, round out the word count to exactly 180.
Guilty.