I think all I can say is, "Good Lord."
Jess just said, "We're living in Satan's house." And it's not because this place is haunted—it's because it's friggin' HOT.
Probably the worst thing to happen to me so far is that my car melted.
And it doesn't get much better from there. Unfortunately beating the heat means going to places that are air conditioned. Going to places that are air conditioned means spending lots of dough. I suppose that doesn't have to be true, but when you don't have much willpower, like I don't, the money is sure to flow.
We tried to beat the heat chilling at our place, which happens to have a pool.
Two cool guys.
I have had several ways of beating the heat, some of which I can't tell you about because of the prohibitions listed out in the Geneva Conventions. But I do want to share some of the declassified methods with you.
First of all, take a look at what I'm working with. The heat was so intense that it literally distorted my physical features. See how my ear is all messed up?
Everyone knows that driving around in a car in this heat is some form of suicide. Even with my AC on I still sweat like a pig with a heart condition in an oven. But I walked out of my building after work and saw this guy drive by me shirtless. "Loser," I thought. It took about five to seven seconds to turn that into a good idea. And then this is me about seven minutes later with the obligatory Michael Jackson tunes blaring to capacity.
Another way that Jess and I beat the heat was to move our lives completely downstairs. The upstairs is a furnace of incomparable, unbearable heat. For the last two nites (and tonite, I'm sure) we've had Campout! We blew up our air mattress and watched The Karate Kid.
I had to do something to make this lady happy, look at that face—heat and Jessica do not mix well.
So I completed blowing the thing up.
Jess was still dealing with heatstroke, so it's not surprising that she was less than enthused.
But she warmed up to it pretty quick.
And Gretel was loving every minute of the whole ordeal.
I told Jess we were going old school tonight: none of this fan stuff, we were going to take the heat like they did in the Oregon Trail days—lying down. Tonight we're just going to get in our bed with no artificial cool down methods; what followed was a look of disbelief so intense that it actually caused bodily harm to myself.
Clearly our only option is Campout! again tonight.