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Ding Dong Ditch
Julia The morning is blindingly bright and damp as hell. “s**t!” I yelp as I jump up from the rocking chair I’ve just sat in. I should’ve realized that all of the furniture out here on the back porch would be soaking wet after last night’s rain. The sun has only been up for a few hours, and with the humidity churning the air into a soupy mess, nothing has even begun to dry out from the thunderstorm. I really f*****g hate it out here. Even the house’s redeeming qualities, like the luxurious deck, are rendered useless by the swamp and the unrelenting Louisiana weather. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” I mutter grumpily as I raise my mug to my lips and take a sip. At least the coffee’s good. Thank God for small mercies. My original plan had been to settle out here with my morning
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