I grew up in the Midwest. I still live in the Midwest.
For some reason, just about everyone I’ve ever known and loved has moved to Colorado, a place I’ve never been able to relate to, at all.
Avalanches of dry boogers rolling out of my nose, off the faces of newly formed Nostril Mountains. Skin falling off like soap flakes. Wheezing myself to sleep every night. Unable to exercise without ass cheeks burning. Sun brighter in Colorado than on the sun. Beer going right to my head; drunk after like seven!
Oh, but the mountains! Years ago, my wife and I composed a song, in answer to “Rocky Mountain High”:
Up and down and up and down.
Who gives a rat’s ass?
We’ve got your mountains right here.
What is the matter with us? I finally figured it out. No one sent us to Colorado Transplant School!
Bhaaaaaa 😆
All: The above comment comes from the relative in whose wonderful mountain home I stay (and whose beer goes to my head) while I’m “not relating at all” to Colorado.