Wednesday, August 03, 2011
It’s hot. I’m hot. My basset looks like he’s melted onto the kitchen floor. My kids haven’t left the house in weeks – and I’m terrified to walk outside with eggs.
You can’t buy milkshakes in this weather – even at a drive-thru. The second that shake hits the air, it doesn’t melt, it evaporates as if I’d shot it with a lazer (which of course I wouldn’t do, because hey! It’s a milkshake!).
You can’t let a black dog outside for more than a minute. Their little brains dissolve. I know this because I’m babysitting my friend Michele’s black shitzu. I think she’s forgotten she’s a dog. And she keeps bogarting the a/c vents.
I don’t leave anything in the car now. I left my cell in the car for an hour and when I got it, it went into a kind of Linda Blair activity with spinning icons and shutting on and off. Even leaving the windows open during the day doesn’t help. In fact – it may be making things worse.
It sucks to walk out of the house, after a shower, only to be coated in a layer of enough sweat to put out a small housefire. Then you walk into an air-conditioned building and start shivering.
It was 113 degrees today. Clearly, Hell has opened up a strip mall in the midwest.
The worst thing ever just happened. I went to the fridge for an ice-cold Becks, only to find I didn’t have any. I don’t even want to go out and get one. Now that’s pathetic. Leslie sad…
I hope you are doing better. Please tell me it’s cool outside…somewhere…
The Assassin