I'm On Fire

It's hot out there. I know I have previously blogged about the oppressive heat, but it seems to be on all of our minds. Nasty, nasty weather.

In my rush to get a fountain Diet Coke this morning before work, I got much too excited and locked my keys in my car. You know that awful feeling you get just when your fingers release the door handle. That sick feeling that says, "Uhoh, that was stupid."

There I sat, about 3 blocks from work but no way to get there.

I walked inside to borrow the phone and with much humiliation I called Cynical, who was at the hospital with his mother. Great timing, eh? While waiting for him to trek across town, I had two choices: wait inside and fill my lungs with smoke (I can do that any time I visit my parents) or I could sit outside in the already sweltering heat. I chose the latter. How attractive was I, sitting all dressed for work with my 42 oz. of pure heavenly fountain coke and $3.85 in change? (You didn't think I would give up my chance for a free refill did you?)

Luckily my knight in shining armor drove up, was very kind about the situation and I was on my way. I hated calling him as we'd agreed to eliminate colas from our diet and I didn't want him to know about my 42-ounce a day habit. Luckily he just shook his head and got back in his car.

However, since I was now running late, I had to park in the Back 40 (Southern/Western term used to mean a "fer piece" away).

That meant trudging across the hot asphalt, carrying my huge "work" bag. Let me take a moment to describe this huge bag: it's a survival kit of sorts. You have probably seen every working woman in the U.S. carrying something similar. For some reason we feel the need to bring a "little" piece of home with us to work and then home again each day. Mine is filled with CDs to help pass the time as I read some pretty boring articles, my beloved binder (heavy in its own right as it carries my calendar and sundry items. Don't ask me to clarify sundry items.), files that I pretend to work on at home each evening, a little snack or two or three and lots of other stuff that I am too lazy to remove. The point is: it's *&^% heavy!

I did make it to work and did have a good excuse, but it totally ruined my whole "wow, she's been here early for the last month" reputation.

I need to go out at lunch, but cannot bear it. I think I can make a meal out of my forgotten yogurt in the fridge, another coke and maybe some crackers out of the vending machine.

Our yard needs to be mowed, but I can't talk Cynical into braving the heat. How awful would it be if I paid two teenagers to spend an hour in the 100-degree temperature to do it for us? That would be bad, very bad, wouldn't it? Or would I simply be providing them with an opportunity to make money so they can gas their cars, which will enable them to drive to do charity work. That's a good theory, eh? I am going to make the call.