Crazy kind of wind.
Wind that makes you kind of crazy.
The kind of winds that you really can't even fathom if you haven't ever visited here in the Spring.
Or the Winter.
Or the Summer.
Or the Fall.
It blows all year long. Except when you want it to.
We consider 30 mph to be a slight breeze.
I've lived here all my life and I really should be used to the wind by now. But I'm getting cranky and irritable in my old age.
I find myself thinking of Lizzie Borden a lot lately. Did you jump rope to her little sing-song when you were a small child?
Lizzie Borden took an ax,
and gave her mother forty whacks,
when she saw what she had done,
she gave her father forty-one.
I didn't jump rope to that either. It's just that my mother told me her story. My mom who is a lover of all things morbid and murdery. I remember murder mystery magazines stacked nearly to the ceiling in our garage in my childhood home. Covers with pictures of women laying murdered, ropes around their necks, half dressed, blood pooled under their heads. It's a wonder I turned out normal, and the jury is still out on that one.
Legend, or my bad memory, says that Lizzie Borden lived in the 1800's. There was no air conditioning and a massive heat wave enveloped her area. The temperatures soared, the heat was unbearable, not to mention she had to wear all those hot dresses which only intensified the problem. So the tale continues that the Borden family had to eat stew, or something similarly wretched, day after day after excruciating day. The stew spoiled, I assume there wasn't a Frigidaire in the house, or any Secret anti-perspirant, and they sweated and ate rotten meat for days. Until Lizzie had just had it. She couldn't take it anymore. A girl can only eat rotten meat for so long, and so she bludgeoned her mom and dad. I mean enough is enough. The crazy weather can really get to a person can't it?
Did I mention the wind is blowing? Did I mention it's been blowing for day after day after excruciating day? Did I mention my mother's mystery murder magazines that infiltrated my brain as a young impressionable youth? Did I mention I have an axe in the garage?
Here's a picture of my dresser.
See that empty spot right there.
I had a lovely topiary sitting there from my wedding reception. There's a matching one on the other side.
Have I mentioned the wind's blowing?
Maybe the curtain whipped really hard.
And the wind must've helped.
Somehow, my lovely topiary landed on the floor, right next to my slippers.
I'd opened the windows to get a refreshing gale during the night, and mistakenly left them open today.
Woe is me.
I'm off to find a broom.
And maybe an axe.
P.S. I googled good ole' Lizzie and couldn't find anything about the rotten stew and heat, so don't quote me on this. Really you probably shouldn't quote me ever.
It's a fine line between a good story and a lie.