. . . than the hammered-down hinges of Hell, as Jill Conner Browne would say. It's not as hot as it could be (so I keep telling myself, as it hasn't broken the 100's yet), but August is shaping up to be pretty stifling and sweaty. I was doing OK with this summer thing. I like summer, I prefer being too warm to too cold, and for most of my life, I have had an outdoor job during Atlanta and Tallahassee summers. I like wearing skirts and describing the weather as "sultry". But August is trying to kill me. Enough with the heat already. Enough. I'm ready for fall.
Although at this point I must confess that the Best Roommate Ever and I have yet to turn on our A/C. Why?, I can hear you asking, aghast. Because we are A) cheap, B) poor, C) completely hardcore, and D) totally insane. I'm telling you, I'm going to have to marry this girl. Because really, what other human being would be so enthusiastic about not turning on the air conditioning during an Atlanta summer? No one, I tell you. Because that is insane. Unfortunately, neither of us seems likely to become a lesbian at this point, so that ruins my plans. Send popsicles. Rainbow ones. :-)