I Am Totally Justified in Feeling Sorry for Myself

Act of Torture #1: Here in the Midwest, Mother Earth has decided to give us a good five day stretch of record breaking heat. Tomorrow's heat index is predicted to reach 110 degrees. We are only winding down Day Two. However, by some wild stroke of luck, a relative gave me an extra window a/c unit which is now churning out enough cool air to make me stop sweating. (Trust me, my environmentally guilt ridden self will assure you that it's on the absolute lowest setting, "cooling" my entire apartment.)

Act of Torture #2: Due to the insane humidity, I cannot hang my clothes to dry like I usually do. I must use the despised dryer. Do you know what it's like to take hot, piping clothes out of the dryer when you are already covered in sweat in your claustrophobic basement?

Act of Torture #3: There is no ice cream in the house.

Act of Torture #4: Hot laptop on well...lap.

Act of Torture #5: I already need a haircut. Now we have a dew point of 70. Guess what my hair looks like. Baxter the Cat's mane is looking better than mine. And he licks his.

Act of Torture #6: I cannot bake that rhubarb pie. Well, I could but I might as well just light myself on fire.

Act of Torture #7: My summer long ice cream addiction (all in the name of cooling off, mind you) has now resulted in me only being able to fit into a quarter of my summer wardrobe. Thank God for skirts with elastic waistbands.

Act of Torture #8: The mass quantities of water I am consuming is now resulting in pee breaks every 30 seconds opposed to the usual ten minute intervals.

Torture #9: Heat like this makes me crabby and sort of hate people. You gotta problem with that?

Torture #10: Heat also makes me incredibly lazy. I am literally staring at a to-do list a mile long. Yet, all I do is stare at it. It is an absolute wonder that I am typing.

And a Masochistic Act of Torture: Back to the hair subject. Is there anything worse than a hair dryer? Wait...I'm not quite hot enough, let me blow hot air directly onto my scalp. And let me do this while I sip my morning coffee. I am so, so stupid sometimes.

I may not be justified in being stupid but I am in feeling sorry for myself, right? This, coming from a girl who slept with a bag of (initially frozen) peas the other night. You are welcome to feel sorry for me, too. I never turn sympathy away. Or a turtle sundae. Just sayin'.