Midsommar Most Heat Moon
Say it ain’t so. The 10 most white trash cities in Indiana.
Estimated White trash: 1,342.5
Welfare population: 25%
Single parents: 25%
Drug use: 3rd for cities above 5,000 residents in IN
Alexandria is a little place right outside of Muncie, Indiana.
It is definitely one of the “whitest cities” on our list. The number of drug-related crimes and aggravated assaults, combined with the high number of poor dropouts, makes this white trash central for Madison County.
Is that Ricky Bobby’s kid? Fair question, Alexandria. You’re located just northeast of the black and white checkered flag in Indy-land. Hey, don’t get your boxers in a bunch, we know the three things you don’t mess with in white trash country: racin’, drinkin’, and makin’ meth.
And if you live in Madison County, there’s a good chance you’re makin’ meth. Huffin’ ain’t easy people. You’re a true gem, Alexandria.
Midsommar Most Heat Moon
We’re going to need a sign: A Scandinavian and former Minnesotans live here. It will hang below the window air conditioner we purchased yesterday in Evergreen. Nobody has air conditioning up here. At least not visible from the road. We moved here for the cooler average temperatures and Shadow Mountain has obliged, so that’s not surprising. But. In the summer, for a few weeks, it does get hot up here and the house heats up. So does the loft.
Kate and I kept our home in Andover at 63 degrees summer and winter. And were happy about it. The heat makes both of us sluggish, cranky. Beating it back, even for the few weeks when it’s a problem, has become important for us. We purchased one unit, will put it in today (which means Jon will put it in), and see how it works. If it works well, we’ll buy a slightly larger unit, 15,000 BTU’s, for the loft.
When we went into Home Depot (our choices for purchasing a unit were two: Walmart or Home Depot. Community busters or a CEO who loves and supports the Donald. Sigh.), I had to go up to Customer Service and say, “I want to buy an air conditioner, but I can’t lift it.” The woman behind the desk said, “All right. Where is it?” Then she came with me. I looked at her. If she can lift the damned thing, I should be able to. But, no. She had a trick. She tilted the box back while I moved the flat-bed cart underneath it, then she worked it onto the low orange bed.
Life is too short. Yes, it is and with both of us in our eighth decades it’s getting even shorter. Too short to spend weeks bothered by heat. Now, who can I get to make that sign?