Ahhh... summer in Texas. Mother nature's version of a microwave. I came home this evening after finishing up a family photo session, opened up the front door and thought, 'Hmmm... what's wrong with this picture? Everything looks to be in order. No mysterious, unidentifiable smells. Yep, the TV works. Oh, I know what it is... it's freakin' 400 degrees in here!!'
Okay, 400 degrees is a bit of an embellishment, it's only 87... forgive me for rounding up, but when you are as hot-blooded as I seem to be, there's little distinction between the two. So the AC's out and apparently the apartment office's view is that non-working AC is only an emergency if it goes out while the sun's still up. We obviously have different views.
I hate hot. Hot and I go together like Sanjaya and American Idol, like McDonald's and "fat-free", like Bill O'Reilly and [insert any democrat here]; there's simply no room for (peaceful) coexistence.
I'll stop ranting now; I need to peel my sticky elbows off the desk and head to bed. Besides, this 30" Mac display is like a heat lamp... time to turn this puppy off, crank up every fan I own to "wind tunnel" mode and think cool thoughts.
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