My AC unit is a doozy. I would turn my kitchen floor into a rink right now if I mopped it. Good thing that only ever happens after a fork stabbing. Couple the temperature with the historic game 7 of the Stanley Cup that’s in full swing right now, and I’m a happy little penguin.
It’s been hot the last few days in Boston. the new phrase I keep hearing is “Africa” hot. But I think it’s more akin to “trip drunkenly over a trailer hitch into a campfire” hot. Exceedingly warm weather is not my favorite, and I’m going to be putting the dry cleaner’s kids through prep school if this continues.
I walk to work every day as I’ve discussed, and it works out to about 22 miles a week. Lately I’ve been getting to work after these 2 mile jaunts looking like Andy escaping from Shawshank. My favorite joke from last night’s Entourage comes to mind: “I haven’t seen anyone sweat like that since Patrick Ewing retired”. Frig – Carolina just scored. I have to pay attention to the game now and rub my rabbit’s foot. Only I don’t have one, so I’m bound to make the cat really uncomfortable.
As a fellow sweathog (and I’m sure it’s much less endearing on a girl), I feel your pain. Today, however, has been better so far. So far.
Me no likey sweaty.