I really miss New Mexico

I really miss New Mexico because in New Mexico when your mullet-wearing tweaker roofing-contractor fucks you, sending the biggest rains the Pacific Northwest has known in 100 years cascading down the insides of your 80 year-old walls and the replacement roof to fix the situation at some considerable additional expense happens to entomb a couple rats that made in into the attic crawl space under the previous “roof”–those rats putting up quite a ruckus as they starve to death under their new, better built coffin lid on a night when the furnace has been burned out for two weeks so you’ve discovered that leaving the oven door open on 450° makes a fair substitute if your only goal is to prevent hypothermia—in New Mexico the rats would have quickly dessicated into mummies instead of rotting with a really interesting bouquet above the dining room, subsequently sending clouds of two species of house fly through the kitchen ceiling for 8 days where they commonly leave the game by burning to death in the halogen lamp—the smell of burning skin and hair permeating the living room.