According to our outdoor thermometer, it was 104 today. That's 4 degrees over "way too effin' hot." Seriously, I'm a Native Texan, and I know it gets hot in the summer. And the spring. And the fall. And December. But HOLY Lord, this is ridiculous. Last summer, we hardly went outside because of all the rain. Remember that stuff? This summer, we're held captive by the very real fear of spontaneously exploding into a ball of flames every time we open the door. And did I mention that our house faces due WEST? Yeah, so late afternoon and early evening are a barrel of fun if you're sitting in the living room, what with the blinding prism rays from the cut glass in the front door shooting all over the place, burning your retinas. And doing wonders for my proclivity for light-induced migraines. Yay! We knew when we built the house that this might be "an issue," but we sure as hell weren't anticipating actual crippling injury to person and property because of it. I do, however, deeply love everything else about our house, so if I have to avoid certain areas (like the entire front half of the house) for a few hours each day, then so be it. So suck on that, Mr. Sun, you asshole.
Speaking of assholes, we've chosen to avoid the heat by staying indoors a good portion of the day, and I can now officially say that I hate anyone named Michael and/or who has a Hobby and/or who lives in a building with a Lobby. It looks like a GD craft store exploded in my kitchen. And now I'm off to finish my sparkly unicorn hook rug oven mitts.
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