, , , ,

This is our weather forecast for this weekend:


Holy schnikes, folks. And AND! That’s not even the hottest it gets here! This is only the beginning of summer. I shall die a thousand deaths in this heat. This is my third summer in Las Vegas. The first one was actually pleasant, despite the fact that I was all-the-way pregnant, because I had just come off of a decade of being soggy in Portland and the dryy dryyyyyy heat was lovely. Last year wasn’t as lovely but still, I was okay. This year? I HATE IT SO MUCH. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so fat (honestly – thanks to two pregnancies in two years, including a two-month stint in a hospital bed (and two other weeks on my butt at home) I am now dipping my toe in the puddle of obesity – but let’s not talk about that right now) or what but from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep, and even sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I feel like a melting, sweltering mess. And it’s making me grrrrrrumpy. The only time I go outside is at around 6:30 in the morning to take the kids for a walk and even THAT is becoming too much because it’s like 80 (80!) degrees that early in the morning. So I’m trapped in my apartment with a holy terror of a tantrum-throwing toddler (oh my gravy with the tantrums! that’s another post in itself, however, so again let’s not talk about it), an infant who mostly wants to be either on top of or right next to me, two black and furry (and thus irritable) cats, and my hairy, grouchy husband. Screw you, sun! And then today we had a guest star in this melodrama – a giant cricket crawled (or jumped, I guess) into our house to die. Have I mentioned that I hate crickets? Well all insects really. I understand that they are noble creatures, here to eat all of the other more horrifying flying things and that we are all God’s creations with a right to live here or whatever but when I stumble across a cricket carcass (which, by the way, is a million times better than a live cricket HOLYCRAP) inside my house I just want to run away and live in a bubble.

Anyway, I haven’t been posting here much because the only thing I really want to talk about I’m still not allowed to talk about (stay tuned for that post in T minus 23 days and counting!), and because of that thing a lot of other things have been going on around here including me working as many extra hours as possible so as to have money. To do the thing. Irritated yet? Imagine me, sticking to my pleather couch, sweating profusely as no woman should, watching entirely too much Elmo because sometimes I’m just too tired to placate The Great Tantrum Thrower and hopefully that will make you feel better.