I apologize now because I know I have friends and readers in the North who have just barely squeaked into their 70 degree summers. I do not mean to complain. In fact, I willingly chose to live in the South because I love summer so much. And I hate winter, along with every temperature that starts with a number below 6.
But I just have to say, we are having a week of 100 degree days. And I am stinking hot.
Showers don't help, because then I have to blow my hair dry, then I'm hot all over again. The A/C (God bless the person who invented that) can only do so much in defense against the humidity. And if I do by some miracle get cool enough for a moment, for some reason I develop a compelling need to go out in the scorching sun to check on my insane watermelon plant to find out if I have any more teeny melons coming on. Like that won't wait until dusk.
One thing I find privately hilarious about Texas summer is my steadfast obsession with coffee. While I'm drinking my scalding hot morning brew, I sit here and complain about the hotness of the world.
After my morning coffee on Monday, I mowed the lawn. At 9:30am, the thermometer stood at 95 degrees. I almost stroked out. And do you know what I did when I came inside? After I showered and drank two glasses of ice water, I reheated what was left of my coffee and finished it up. Today, after checking the melons for the third time, I made a second pot. You may mock me now. I still have to say again, I'm stinkin' hot.
My loving, supportive hubby just pointed out that I am wearing long pants and two layers of shirts. I contend that they are capri pants, thank you very much, made from lightweight cotton scrubs, and a lightweight shirt with a camisole tee underneath. Duh. Because if I were wearing what I feel like wearing, I couldn't go outside my bedroom. Or else I'd have to buy blinds.
Speaking of which, I often wonder what my neighbors think of us. We are trying to patiently pay off some debt before sinking over a grand on window coverings, which doesn't bother me too much because I don't have that great a need to hide anything. However, you can totally see into our house from down the street, and I am forever having to make unscheduled runs to the kitchen or upstairs to the kids rooms after I already got into my sleeping clothes. And there are a lot of active people forever passing by our house.
I suppose that if they're looking, and if they see anything surprising, at least they know I'm not hot.
Now back to your regularly scheduled ordinary day.