Work the Kidney, Work the Kidney

Something tells me it's hot out there.

Even so, that sadist MathMan dragged me into the heat and forced me to go to the gym.  'twas upper body day so I pumped iron with the Beefy Boys.  They don't smile much.  They didn't even giggle when I made that "So do steroids really make your balls shrink?" joke.  I guess steroids shrink the sense of humor, too.

And wouldn't you know, that same sadist drove me home in a car with air conditioning in perfectly good working order, but did he use it?  Heck no.  It's only 98 degrees according to my weather.com desktop thingy.  That little thing even has sweat droplets on its upper lip.  But no, we had to ride with the windows cranked all the way down so the supercharged hot wind could whip our tired bodies.  With a situation like that, maybe I don't need Bikram Yoga.

I fixed him though.  I reeked of sweat and surly attitude as I hung my head out the car window.  After yesterday's soap incident, though, I remembered to keep my tongue in.  All I needed to complete my afternoon was a bug in my mouth.

But you're sitting there melting in your own damn chair so what am I bitching about?  It's hot.  Deal with it.  I'm saying that to me, not you.  In fact, it's so hot shut up in this little office that I haven't managed word one of my word goal yet today.  Writing has not happened.  Staying up til three in the morning isn't conducive to my morning pages nor any other kind of writing so I'm still staring at my manuscript without a clue as to how to get started today.

But you know how it is around here during the month of July.  Any semblance of order disappears.  Without a routine, we're all running wild and even I have to be reminded to floss.  There's no school summer or otherwise to keep us on a schedule.  Baseball is essentially over.  We're too broke for a vacation.  So what do we do?  We stay up until all hours.  Chloe's out partying with friends or sleeping off exhaustion from waiting tables. (heh heh)  Nathan's screaming at his XBox Live.  Sophie's in her room creating art and bedlam while drinking Mountain Dew straight from the 2 liter bottle.  MathMan and I are trying to get comfortable on that slab of concrete we call a mattress and watching British coppers solve murders.  And then when the alarm goes off at five thirty because we forgot to shut it off before finally passing out, we know that's really just a signal to allow the R.E.M. sleep to kick in.

It's like someone steps on our circadian rhythms each summer.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The good thing about being unemployed is that I don't have to go to an office and try to stay awake.  My bed may be uncomfortable, but it's better than trying to nap upright at a desk.

Okay, I have to go.  MathMan and I need to finish our debate over which is better - sweet or unsweet tea and I'm going to solve this heat thing by dropping a few ice cubes into my bra before I settle in to write.

Try to stay cool, lovers.