So you’ve made the brave decision to live through another summer in Southern Wake County. Bold choice, but let’s be real, no one is moving with these interest rates. The South is all fun and games in the spring and fall, but summers are hotter than Paul Rudd in a house fire.
If you’re a runner, gross, but you better get your headlamp ready, because the only time you’ll be running is in the dead of night. On the plus side, no protein shakes required — you’ll suck down enough bugs to get the job done.
To prepare us all for the worst season ever, I’ve compiled the only guide you’ll need to survive air made of soup, bugs large enough to claim as dependents, and kids who have been out of school for approximately 84 years.
1. BUGS: AIRBORNE TINY TERRORISTS
Native to Southern Wake and trained by the military, we’ve got mosquitos, ticks, ants, water bugs (flying cockroach nightmares), you name it. If you have standing water in your backyard of any kind, start writing your obituary now.
If you don’t want these wee beasties to ruin your patio experience, bathe in DEET like it’s SPF. Worried about the chemicals? You should be more worried about Big Bertha, the largest and oldest mosquito in the area who happens to be carrying the West Nile and Zika viruses, dengue fever, yellow fever, Covid Type 876, and the blood of your enemies. You could opt for citronella candles, but they mostly exist to mask the scent of your fear.
If you hear screaming coming from the woods, it’s either your neighbors or loud, incessant cicadas. Stay inside, mind your business, and hope for the best.
2. HEAT: THE SUN IS MAD AT YOU PERSONALLY
From Memorial Day to Halloween, the local weather forecast is “surface of the sun with a chance of spontaneous combustion.” By 9 a.m., it’s hot enough to cook an egg on your gigantic forehead. At 3 p.m., you’re 97% sweat and 3% yearning to live anywhere but here. Tips for not melting include:
- Run errands before dawn like a vampire in yoga pants.
- Use oven mitts to drive — yes, really.
- Car sauna: You don’t need a gym membership. Just get in your car after it’s been parked for 12 minutes and you’ll sweat out the sins of your ancestors (… well, I guess that depends on your ancestors).
Your lawn will be dead by July. Accept it. Pretend you’re planning a rock garden project.
3. THE KIDS: THEY NEVER LEAVE
By week two of summer break, your kids are watching hour nine of YouTube and have formed a Lord of the Flies–style civilization in your living room. They’re home. They’re sticky. They’re screaming. They’re demanding a pool, snacks, and a trip to Disney all in the same breath.
If you don’t have kids, you do now. Their toys are in your backyard. They’re running around in front of your house. They’re probably peeing in your bushes. You want to take action, but taking action is probably illegal. Notice I said probably … look it up and double check.
Count yourself lucky if bumblebees are the only insects you are dealing with this summer.
4. ERRANDS: A QUEST THROUGH THE FLAMES
You left your house to “grab a few things.” Terrible idea. You now have third-degree burns from the seat belt and steering wheel. You are sweating in places you didn’t even know you had. It’s 2025 — utilize grocery pick-up. Have a heart and think about all the kids home from college who are trying to fund their vape habit with DoorDash. If you do end up in the grocery store and you can’t find your kids or aging parents, check the freezer aisle. That’s where you’d be too.
5. VACATION A TRIP
You decided to go on a trip. With your family. During peak season. Bold. You will soon learn that “beach trip” is code for “you will have sand in your car for the next nine months.” The only time you’ll relax is in the gas station bathroom halfway there. Your suitcase will be 20% swimsuits and 80% chargers you’ll forget to use — but somehow, you’ll lose all of them by the time you get home.
You’re going to burn, because you packed expired sunscreen. You’ll get to the beach early and have a nice view until someone with a Shibumi shade parks themselves right in front of you and blasts Alan Jackson. Rip tides abound, and by the end of the trip you’ll be thinking about walking right in and letting God take you to Glory.
My advice is avoid this trip. Blame it on diarrhea. Let them go; stay home and binge watch The Righteous Gemstones. Find your peace.
6. HOME BASE: THE LAST STRONGHOLD
Keep your thermostat between 68–70 degrees. Anything higher than that is lunacy. If your spouse likes it at 72, divorce them. Life is too short. Your electric bill can be ignored until the lights go out. Caulk every crack like you’re sealing the hull of a submarine.
7. BONUS ROUND: SOUTHERN SUMMER WEATHER
There are only two modes:
“We’re Melting!”
“Tornado Watch Until Midnight”
You’ll be grilling burgers one minute and tying down patio furniture the next. Bonus points if the power goes out, and you get to play “pioneer family” with the Bath & Body Works candles that you got for Christmas.
8. SELF-CARE. BECAUSE YOU’VE EARNED IT
Once you’ve sent your extended family down to get airbrushed shirts at Myrtle Beach without you, make yourself a drink. Maybe it’s cucumber-mint water. Maybe it’s a massive bottle of King Cobra Malt Liquor. We’re not here to judge — do whatever you have to do to beat summer in Southern Wake. Get a Costco-size box of freeze pops, a flyswatter, a kiddie pool (for you, not the kids), and the strongest deodorant you can find. It’ll be fine.
