From Sunshine to Submersion: Our Triumphant Return to the Bluegrass State
Well folks… we’re back! Kentucky welcomed us home yesterday with open arms—and a whole lot of WATER. I’m talking about an epic, Noah’s-Ark-level, aquatic extravaganza. We cruised in from Tennessee, not necessarily unaware, just not prepared, and BAM—hello, soggy apocalypse!
Imagine this: you’re driving peacefully and suddenly you spot rooftops peeking out from massive lakes where neighborhoods used to be. Cars? Submerged like they’re trying out for Finding Nemo: Honda Edition. It was like Mother Nature said, “Welcome back—hope you packed your floaties!”
Luckily, things aren’t quite so dramatic here in Bardstown city limits. But head out to the outskirts in Nelson County—places like New Haven and Boston—and you better bring a canoe. Or a snorkel. Or maybe both.
Now, as if returning to a half-drowned homeland wasn’t enough, Kentucky decided to add a little spice. Not the kind you want, like cinnamon or sunshine. Nope—FREEZING SPICE. We’ve got freeze watches in effect for the next two nights. Yes, freeze. As in, the complete opposite of the 85–90 degrees I just left behind in Florida. I came back from palm trees and paradise to “you might want to bring the plants in tonight.”
Honestly, can we just go back to Florida already? I miss sweating. I miss the sun. I miss not wondering if my car will turn into an ice sculpture overnight. Once I survive Wednesday, I might just stage a one-woman escape mission. Watch out, Florida—I’m coming back with a suitcase full of long sleeves and trauma.
Speaking of Wednesday, that’s when I finally have my first appointment with a rheumatologist. THANK. GOODNESS. I’m so ready to get some answers—and maybe some meds that don’t sound like side effects from a horror film. I never knew fatigue and sleep deprivation could make hand pain go from “mildly annoying” to “can’t open a bag of chips without assistance.” After pulling an all-night drive Saturday and limping in Sunday morning, my hands are DONE. No grip. No chill. Just pain. If my fingers could talk, they’d probably be screaming expletives at me.
So here we are: soggy, frozen, and in desperate need of a nap—and a warm beach. But at least we’re home… right?
…Right?
(Florida, if you’re listening, please save me.)
