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The Fucking Welcome Wagon
I take a long, cold sip of my lemonade (spiked with vodka), wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead, and silently curse the previous owners of my new house for letting their garden go to hell. It is a brutally hot afternoon, but I am bound and determined to rid my flowerbeds of these God-forsaken weeds. My tank top and running shorts are plastered to my skin and I just tossed my hair up in a ponytail to get it off my neck. I had no idea when I moved here that it could still be so blazing hot...