Irony

It has been smoky in my town for close to two weeks. Forest fires burning nearby and no wind to carry the smoke in a different direction or blow it out of here. Sometimes it gets so bad your throat hurts and it your breathing is affected. There have been mornings I've found a thin layer of ash on the car.

We are getting into a part of the year now that is traditionally rainy. We have a county fair, but almost every time it comes some or most of the days are pretty miserable from rain. The good thing about rain here is that frequently douses the smoke.

Not this time. At present, we have both rain and smoke. The air is a mixture of smoke and water! Why the fuck do people live here? This is our last 'warm' weather before long months of subzero temperatures start. This place is a literal hell most months of the year. I yearn to be out of here, and for more reasons than just the climate.

This isn't the place to start up a rant about how much I hate where I live, but I'm struck by the irony of having read three books about the ultimate place of punishment, with the final volume called Escape From Hell.

Yeah. Good idea.