30 and counting……the dog days of summer.

Disclaimer:  I am well aware that it is not attractive to a.) complain and b.) use profanity.

Sorry, Mom and Dad.

But, it is f@%&-ing hot in here.  I’m cranky, sweaty, stir-crazy, and frankly, sick of EVERYTHING.  Just now, I was parking my car and for some reason this creepy old guy…..grrrr….get it together…..this older gentleman decides it's his job to watch me.  I was nowhere near hitting him (even though he was moving incredibly slowly across an active driveway).   I was in my non-threatening, if incredibly dirty, family-friendly Corolla.  I was not even playing loud music.  In fact, I was quietly listening to All Things Considered on NPR, i.e., the old people station!  Still, this guy is giving me the stink-eye like I’m some kind of menace to society!  

“What are you looking at, grandpa? Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” 

Ok, so I didn’t go so far as to actually stick my head out the window and yell this, but I did mouth it under my breath behind the safety of my windshield.  God forgive me.

This heat and smoke and sudden lack of employment laughingly called a ‘vacation’, has gotten the best of me.  I have been reduced to a pouty teenager.  Worse!  A pouty, single, 30-something who sweats profusely and can’t sit still.  I’m like a toddler.  A toddler with heartburn and a ticking biological clock.  How’s that for poetry?  And, WE TURNED OFF OUR CABLE.  WILLINGLY!  WHAT WERE WE THINKING?! 

I’m going to lay flat on my back on the living room floor with a cold compress and pray for sanity.  If that doesn’t work, mama’s gonna hit the sauce.  I’m just sayin’.