09/08/2026
My brain (and most of my resolve) is melted, I needed a laugh….i thought maybe you could too. Enjoy
☀️ THE OREGON TRAIL: KANSAS EDITION ☀️
An Official Journal of Our Journey Across the Surface of the Sun
Day 3,083
We departed at first light.
The destination: somewhere with temperatures below 90°.
Our wagon was loaded with iced coffee, sunscreen, fans, and approximately 47 gallons of water.
We had no idea what awaited us.
We should have known.
There were no clouds.
Only fire.
⸻
Day 3,084
We encountered our first obstacle:
THE DRIVEWAY.
Crossing it cost us one sandal, two ounces of dignity, and a perfectly good hairstyle.
We pressed onward.
The chickens refused to leave the shade.
I cannot say I blame them.
⸻
Day 3,085
We lost a wagon wheel.
Actually, it was a flower pot.
But it was sitting outside in the heat, so we’re counting it.
Casualties include:
• 1 hydrangea
• 3 petunias
• 7 ounces of hope
• Grandma’s patience
Grandma is still alive.
Barely.
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Day 3,086
The river crossing went poorly.
We attempted to water the flower beds.
The water evaporated somewhere between the hose and the dirt.
We have died of dehydration.
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Day 3,087
Today we encountered a hostile tribe of mosquitoes.
We attempted diplomacy.
They were not interested.
We lost blood.
They gained confidence.
⸻
Day 3,088
We found a patch of shade beneath a tree.
We immediately declared it a national park.
No one is permitted to enter without a permit.
⸻
Day 3,089
The horses have stopped moving.
The donkey has stopped moving.
The dog has stopped moving.
The chickens are lying flat on the ground with their wings spread out like tiny feathery starfish.
The barn cats have abandoned us.
They have gone to live with people who have air conditioning. (Shari K***z)
⸻
Day 3,090
We attempted to travel into town.
The car thermometer read 106°.
We turned around.
Civilization can wait.
⸻
Day 3,091
A terrible thing has happened.
We ran out of ice.
We are now drinking room-temperature water.
Morale has collapsed.
Someone suggested making sun tea.
We laughed at them.
⸻
Day 3,092
We encountered a mysterious puddle in the driveway.
Upon investigation, we discovered it was not water.
It was someone’s flip-flop.
⸻
Day 3,093
Today we made the mistake of touching the steering wheel.
We have lost two fingerprints.
⸻
Day 3,094
A storm appeared on the horizon.
We rejoiced.
We prepared the wagon.
We gathered the livestock.
We stood outside with our faces raised toward the heavens.
The storm passed three miles north.
It dropped exactly four raindrops.
Two landed on the windshield.
Two landed on my forehead.
God is testing us.
⸻
Day 3,095
We have entered the final stage of survival.
We no longer ask:
“Is it hot?”
We simply look at each other.
No words are necessary.
⸻
Day 3,096
The forecast has been consulted.
It says:
☀️ 101°
☀️ Feels like 109°
☀️ Winds: 14 mph
☀️ Chance of rain: LOL
We have abandoned the wagon.
We are walking.
⸻
Day 3,097
We found a grocery store.
It had air conditioning.
We stayed inside for 47 minutes pretending to compare cereal prices.
A manager asked if we needed help.
We said, “No thank you.”
We were lying.
We needed rescue.
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Day 3,098
We have heard rumors of a place called September. (The calendar says we’re there)
Apparently, the temperatures there are reasonable. (Lies!!)
We do not know if this place exists.
But we have chosen to believe. (For now)
⸻
Day 3,099
We have lost Grandma.
She said she was going outside “for just a minute.”
We haven’t seen her since.
We assume she is somewhere in the shade yelling at the sun.
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Day 3,100
WE HAVE FOUND FALL.
Or so we thought.
It was a pumpkin decoration at Hobby Lobby.
We have been deceived.
⸻
Day 3,101
Our supplies are running low.
We have one bottle of sunscreen.
Three melted popsicles.
Half a cucumber.
And enough sarcasm to last approximately another six months.
⸻
Day 3,102
We have reached the edge of civilization.
The grass is brown.
The flowers are wilted.
The driveway is approximately 14,000°.
And yet…
WE PRESS ON.
Because someday—perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in another geological era—we shall once again experience the sensation of putting on a cardigan without immediately regretting every decision we’ve ever made.
Until then…
We survive.
We hydrate.
We seek shade.
We water the flowers.
We curse the heat.
And every morning we wake up and whisper:
“Maybe today will be cooler.”
It will not.
But we have survived 3,083 days on the surface of the sun, and frankly…
WE DIDN’T COME THIS FAR TO DIE OF HEATSTROKE. 😂☀️
End of journal entry.
Final status: Alive.
Barely.
Dignity: deceased.
Hydrangeas: deceased.
Ice: deceased.
Hope: pending.
Fall: PLEASE HURRY.
