It rained yesterday (and again today) in metro Atlanta.
First time in a long time.
43 days.
That broke the previous record of 39 days.
Set in 1884.
I assume that record is accurate, though it dates back to when Jeb and Cletus kept count with chalk marks on the side of a barn.
If that image fills you with nostalgia, just wait until you see the president-elect’s science team.
Anyway, a long dry spell, as Jeb and Cletus would say.
And yet … I hadn’t really heard much about it.
I knew it was dry recently, but only in the same vague way I knew it was a bit warm.
It’s not like the news is very good at following more than one apocalypse at a time.
Frankly, I haven’t lately paid attention to much weather beyond my own mental fog.
Then, of course, a lot of things have been on fire across the south lately.
That’s pretty serious.
You can tell because our governor went so far as to issue executive orders saying, essentially, “it’s dry; don’t burn things, dummies.”
While that might seem like obvious advice in a drought, this is Georgia, where his predecessor once, during a drought, no shit, led a prayer group to ask God for rain.
Leadership is relative, folks.
Speaking of which, don’t look too closely at that science team, not unless you want a serious excuse to up your anxiety and/or alcoholism.
I won’t bore you with the data, but I feel it in my bones.
Huh. With statements like that, maybe I can get a job on that science team.
I don’t have a degree in the field, but that hardly seems disqualifying for working in this administration.
Then again I actually believe in science, so maybe not.
Regardless, this is just the beginning.
Fires and drought and T-shirt weather into winter.
Sea ice? What sea ice?
Buckle in.
Meanwhile, Jeb and Cletus will keep making marks on the barn, until the fires or the floods come.
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