I have discovered that I do not do well in extreme heat. Thanks to the 100+ temperatures we’ve had, for MORE THAN A WEEK WITH MORE TO COME, my already meager supply of patience has completely evaporated.
Running errands with St. Bob, who truly earns his sainthood in this weather, I was whining about the face mask elastic that snapped me in the cheek, the seat belt that wouldn’t uncoil, the sunscreen that has melted down onto my chest, the wind that feels like someone is holding a blow dryer-- on high and on hot— right at my face, and a few other choice complaints.
Finally he said, “I need to take you home, strip you naked, and--” We all know how this sentence is supposed to end, right? Only mine ends, “And put you in a tub of ice water.”
This is like the time he said, “If I hadn’t married you…” which was supposed to end, “I’d be the most miserable man on earth,” but which actually ended, “You’d be one of those women with forty cats.”
So yes. I’m having a bowl of ice cream. Shut up.
Okay, once a year or so I’m in a testy mood. But you, wherever you are, can cheer me up by visiting my web site and buying my books!