Do People Live in Florida?

living in Florida

My oldest had me laughing on one of our first days in Florida at the supermarket. He’s like, “let’s be real, does anyone really live in Florida all year?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

It’s so f’ing hot here! I mean, my God how do people survive in any other month other than December in Florida? Take today for instance, our last day. Our flight doesn’t go out till 5 PM so we decided to hit up the outlet mall of Fort Myer. I went to buy my sons each a Nike shirt only to discover I couldn’t find my debit card. I called the restaurant and sure as shit, I had left it there. This restaurant happened to be in the opposite direction and 45 minutes from the airport.

C.J’s on the Bay

I left my debit card at a restaurant called C.J.’s on the Bay. The previous night I had called for reservations. And here is how the conversation went:

“Yes, I would like to make reservations for 7 adults and 6 children please.”

“7 adults and 6 children?” The hostess repeated, so 16 all together?”

“No, that’s 13 and we need to be in the shade outside. Can you do that?”

“Yes that’ll work,” she said in a nasaly, high-pitched voice.

Upon arrival, the “shaded” table turned out to be in the breeze way facing the bay and the hot sun. The children facing the sun were already showing early signs of blindness while the adults facing the wall were getting 3rd degree burns on their neck. Obviously my idea of shade and the hostess’s idea of shade were 2 different things.

Eventually I understood what the problem was after walking up to the hostess stand to be moved. The mental capacity of the 2 young hostesses may have equaled one Kardashian, but I’m unsure.

Back to Retrieving My Debit Card

You’ve heard of mommy brain right? To this day, after having children, I struggle to find my car. I could commit to memory lot B4 for my car, come out 2 hours later and think the car is in lot Z17.

“Where’s my car?” I asked as I do at least once a week.

After praying to the parking lot God that hitting lock over and over again would produce a honk from the car to guide me in the right direction, I broke down and text my husband. By the time I found it, I was dripping in sweat.

‘This isn’t even humane,’ I thought, fanning my armpits.

I looked over as a family got out of a car…in jeans. How do you wear jeans? Are you allergic to the sun? Other Floridians were busy talking in Spanish to each other as if it were a cool autumn day. I felt like I was in the parking lot of hell.

Driving in Florida

And while we are on the Florida topic, are the rules different here for driving? Are you suppose to go 50 in a 55 on the passing side? I was attempting to rush back to Marco Island to get my debit card so we wouldn’t miss our flight. Yet 2 cars were being ass holes simultaneously; going the exact same speed (53), making all attempts to pass futile.

Also, I understand that a good chunk of people here are on vacation and don’t need to rush from point A to point B but when you are going 11 mph in a 30, you need to question if you should really be driving. I lost count the number of times I questioned if the driver in front of me was drunk, not only going a third of the speed limit but gliding in and out of lanes like a figure skater.

The Lizard

After dinner last night I was in my bedroom packing when I noticed a huge bug on the wall. I got closer and realized it was a teeny tiny lizard.

“Oh my God! Get in here! There’s a lizard in here! You gotta catch it. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight!”

All the children rushed in and began to devise a plan of extraction. After knocking the lizard down, it ran behind the armoire.

“You gotta catch it. It can’t live.” I blurted.

“We can’t kill it,” my youngest said, clearly disappointed in what I had just said.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean kill it,” I lied. “Just get it out of here.”

My oldest ran out, returning seconds later with a mason jar and lid. When the lizard ran out from under the armoire, my son captured it but took it’s tail out in the process.

“I think I broke it’s spine,” he announced.

“Well then you’ll have to kill it. Flush it down the toilet,” I offered as we all looked at each then at the tail that was still wiggling without the body. By now, another child had come back with a large metal spoon we had just used 2 nights before. Clearly this was the lizard’s casket and would be the transportation to the toilet.

For the rest of the night, anytime I peed, I observed the bowl the entire time, making sure a tailless lizard wasn’t going to bite my ass.


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