It never cooled down last night. It was HOT in my backyard at 2 a.m when I wandered out in search of some cooler air when I couldn't sleep. It was HOTTER on my morning walk at 8 a.m. as we prepare for the Journal Jog and I try to lose an inch or twenty. It was HOTTEREST at the Farmer's Market where we found gravenstein apples for a cobbler. I never thought I'd watch the Beijing Olympics (Free Tibet/Save Darfur, and all that), but I got hooked watching Michael Phelps win his seventh gold medal by the skin of his fingertips and his mom's incredulous reaction. Now I can stay inside, downstairs, and watch TV legitimately and avoid going outside.
I'm thinking about how much I'll miss the heat in a few months when icy cold winds penetrate to my mitochondria while I watch the kids at recess.
It's. Not. Helping.
Nor is the lack of a/c or the fan that is blowing directly on me at full speed.
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