My Hot Girl Summer Isn’t Going Well

Before you say anything just know that I know I wrote about this topic a mere month ago. But it seems I have an obsession and it’s me staying terminally cranky about being hot. As I write this it’s 84 degrees and I haven’t even finished my morning Diet Coke.

I also had to walk my dogs at 6 a.m. so my heat sensitive, aging beagle could get his exercise in before the sun fires up the pavement to “solar flare” on the Kelvin temperature scale. And let me just share that I’m not exactly a 6 a.m. kind of human.

Oh, and please don’t do what my son did and try to use rational thinking to get me to shut up about how hot it is. (Persistent heat dome due to high pressure blah, blah.) This won’t work for a variety of reasons. 

First and foremost is that I’m not that rational. How can I be when my car seat is now multitasking as a depilatory?

That’s right my car is so hot that sliding into the front seat in shorts, skirts, swim cover up etc results in any wayward leg hair, and in some cases depending on the time-of-day epidermis, being removed. 

Forget about paying for laser hair removal all you have to do is sit in your car before the air conditioner has a chance to reach maximum chill velocity.

What’s really freaking me out is that it’s gotten this hot in June. Normally June is your gateway to insufferable heat. It’s the month that politely lets you know things are warming up. 

July is when the weather is supposed to resemble living adjacent to the inner core of the sun. And August is when you draw on all of your intestinal fortitude and gut it out by telling yourself that there’s already a Halloween candy aisle at Target so hang in there because fall is coming to save you.

I feel like I’m living July in June. And WTH on the current pool situation? I went swimming yesterday and when I dove into the pool instead of feeling the bracing jolt of cold water it was like plunging into a vat of lukewarm broth. Ugh.

That’s not to say I’m not used to the disgusting feeling of swimming in soup. Back in the day in Texas my dad used to put huge bags of ice in the pool to cool it down. 

But Kansas is never supposed to feel like Texas because we’re a proud four-season state and that should mean summer doesn’t last six months, you don’t wear shorts at Christmas, and it’s your God given right as a Kansan that your pool water feels refreshing.

Not helping my mood is that my husband is gaslighting me. We have one of those thermostats that you can control from your phone. I, being a flesh and blood human and not a cyborg, like the air conditioner set on a temperature that doesn’t necessitate me needing to wear clinical strength deodorant inside my home. 

My “just sit in front of a fan to cool off” husband disagrees with my A.C. settings and is constantly changing via his phone what the air conditioner is set on. He does this even when he’s not home. 

I finally had to tell him if he valued his time on planet Earth he needed to stop messing with the A.C. from his phone. If there’s ever a “Dateline” episode entitled the “Thermostat Murderer” it will be about me.

I’m just a girl, okay a very advanced middle-aged woman, who wants to survive summer without losing my mind. Is that so wrong?


I do have one thing to help you take your off mind off the heat. 🌞 Oh yeah, it’s my new book Empty!!! 📚So please click on the link and dive in for a little lookie loo.👀