I never blog about the weather because someone, somewhere always has it worse. I live in California, for cryin' out loud. I can, maybe, get away with complaining to someone who lives in Hawaii. But damn. I just have to say one thing. It is H-O-T. It is F-U-C-K-I-N-G H-O-T!!! And not in the hip, sexy kind of way.
I don't care what anyone's "WeatherChannel.com's" temperature reading was for where I live over the weekend, because I know what my trusty SUV's temperature gage told me. It was 112. (a hundred-and-fucking-twelve-degrees-farenheit) And? My car does not lie. When it tells me I have low fuel, it's because I need gas. When it tells me the cargo door is open, it's because the back door isn't closed all the way. When it tells me I need to change the engine oil, it's because it has been 3,000 miles since its last pampering at Jiffy Lube. My car and its little "right about everything" messages are annoying, sure, but it never lies. Never. It was 112 people! It. was. Hot.
My dog didn't even want to go outside. I made 6 trips out to the car to bring in the groceries and normally he happily follows me out, does his little thing and follows me back in. Sunday he followed me out for the first two trips, stayed in the shade next to the garage on the third trip and watched me from a safe distance inside the house (ready to pounce and dig in if I tried to take him outside) for the remaining three trips.
Y'all who live through this for weeks-on-end? Every year? Have my deepest, deepest respect.