Time Flies

I must have missed something because suddenly we are smack dab in the middle of August. We are just having some lovely late-summer weather here the past few days. And by lovely, I mean hot. As in sweating hot. As in swearing & sweating hot. As in it’s-freaking-April-and-I-have-to-water-my-garden hot. As in its-freaking-April-&-we have-a-wildfire-advisory hot. As in its-freaking-April-and-I-REFUSE-to-turn-on-the-air-conditioner hot.  As in…ok, you get the point.

And on that note, I keep thinking of a trip we once took in Korea at the beginning of May over Buddha’s Birthday or Children’s Day or something like that.  It was stifling hot then, too. We went to Kyoungju, my very most favoritest city in Korea. We got a room at a local “resort” because if you have been to Korea, you know that finding decent, cheap, clean lodging can be an adventure but even if you pay out the nose for it, you are not assured of a good night’s rest.

Hence, this story.

This resort was located on a man-made lake alongside which was also a bar-cum-karaoke joint. Which we got to hear. All. Night. Long.

Why?

Because it was TOO HOT to close the window because they weren’t running the air conditioning. And why weren’t they running the air conditioning?  Because it WASN’T TIME YET.

And I hated it then…the black night with the lights of the bar-cum-karaoke joint twinkling along the water’s edge and the highly-enebriated men doing their best to sing at the top of their lungs. And by sing, I mean…well, I’m not sure what I mean. Shout? Wail?  Something like that.

So here is to it not being time to turn on the air conditioning even if it is stinking hot as Hades.

 

This is Kyoungju. but not in summer.