It’s blurry because my phone was melting. Yes. That says 102F. What it doesn’t say is that the humidity makes it feel so. much. better. Not.
When did I become this cranky old lady? It must have been on my lovely commute home, stuck in traffic (as always. That’s a constant, like death and taxes, in suburban NJ), when Patty, my GPS, in trying to show me an alternate route from the Garden State Parkway (which truly lived up to its name today), came up with this:
Yep. Europe. That would be an alternate route to my home. In NJ. Which is still in the United States the last time I checked. Nice to know that between Iraq and Eritrea there’s construction, though. (and where the heck is Eritrea? I’m guessing not Exit 148.) Thanks Patty.
This is unbearable. I have nothing left in my arsenal of dinners that don’t need to be cooked (Frosted Flakes is really only good for dinner every once in awhile. And I’m guessing the heat advisory won’t give me a dispensation to feed the Things that delicious grapefruit beer in my fridge), and if I head up to my bedroom one more night to see the AC flashing a 93F temperature, I just may cry. I wanted to sew tonight, but I can’t risk the light from the sewing machine jacking up the temps in the house.
Word has it we’re due for a cool down (to the high 80s) by Sunday.
I never thought I’d be so thankful to hear a forecast of 85F.