I’m sitting here in the morning breeze right now, but there’s lots of reason to complain about summer, and some people do.
Last week I was forced to visit an unfrequented restaurant because of the “summer hours” of my regular haunt, and the bartender at the new place told me she was now considered to be a “local” because she’s staying here for the first time through the hot summer months.
I didn’t realize that becoming a “local” was so easy. Up in Marathon, there’s an old lady from Australia who came out to West Texas as a young woman, and she’s not considered a “local” yet.
If what the bartender tells me is true, in Terlingua that makes me a “local” for eight years running.
But this morning my housekeeper says that it still takes a few years for it to happen. She says that if you work through the summer, “local” status is instantly conferred. People like me (who don’t have a mind-numbing job) still have to be patient.
95° and Cloudy, Rain