It Keeps Me In a Continual State of Inelegance...

The trouble with the heat is that it's hot. 108+ degrees hot. And it's only mid-June.

Which means that over the next 60 days, my intolerance to heat will continue to build to an astronomical level until one day my husband will come home to find me sitting in a bathtub full of ice cubes. And frozen vegetables. And those little ice packs shaped like smiley faces that are supposed to help make scraped knees and boo-boos feel better.

The thing about Southern Arizona summers is not necessarily the fact that walking barefoot on the sidewalk at night is out of the question. Or needing to slather 6 layers of SPF50 sunscreen all over yourself and your translucent children before stepping outside. Or being required to complete all outdoor activities before 7:03 am. It's the overall feeling of irritation. And a constant disagreeable disposition. And every so often, a little bit of heat-induced rage. But that's just me.

In my book, summer is highly over-rated. Probably because, as a Tucson native, scorching heat is all I have ever known. Next summer, I'm going to Idaho. Or Montana. Or Greenland.