Ok, I know I've totally discarded my mid-western roots when I start bitching about 80 degree heat. But, I'm sorry!!! It was freaking hot last week! Yes, of course, it pales in comparison to the 90-100 degree heat + 90% humidity days of my childhood, or worse, my mid-twenties spent in New York. Ahhh, memories of being trapped underground on a hot, crowded subway train at rush hour when a fight breaks out because someone got their toe stepped on and the other person claims to have a gun... those were the days. Sigh.
But still, for a delicate flower like myself, I felt...wilted. Terribly... so...so terribly...wilted. And I wasn't the only one in our household who felt that way.
Louise moved from spot to spot, ignoring her usual comfy places like her quilt, the bed, the carpet, stretching herself out to cool off.
Egan came home with a headache.
United in suffering.
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