So it’s July here in Arkansas (and, presumably, in the rest of the U.S. also), and I just want to say that I get it. Although it may surprise people to learn that I have a rudimentary understanding of meteorology, I am in fact able to comprehend the basic principals of summer weather. It’s summer, so it’s hot. It’s humid. I get it. That fact ceased being surprising to me in kindergarten.
The other day, as I was returning books to my library, an elderly woman who had noticed my license plates stopped me to ask if I was from Minnesota. When I confirmed this, she launched into how bad the weather was in Arkansas, cornering me in order to learn miserable I was.
And that’s far from the first time it’s happened. It seems like the first thing anyone wants to talk about with me is the weather—specifically, how hot and humid it is. It’s as though these people want me to validate their belief that Arkansas summers are the worst in the entire world. “You’ll be missing Minnesota in August” they’ll say, or “Wait’ll you go through your first Arkansas summer!”
I’m getting to the point where I want to kidney-punch these people. Yes, it’s summer. It’s hot. It was hot yesterday, and it’ll be hot tomorrow. That’s what happens. In Summer. You people are not weather martyrs.
It feels like no matter where you go, people want to claim their weather as the worst in the world. It’s not. You don’t have the worst weather in the world, so shut your catfish-holes.
If people really want to complain about the weather, they should move to Minnesota and experience their first Minnesota winter. It’s cold, and snowy and icy. Seriously, if you were there, you’d be miserable. Come January, you’d probably be missing Arkansas, and wish you were back down south for the winter. Minnesota winters are absolutely the worst in the world.