At last

It rained today. A beautiful drenching rain that lasted a good 45 minutes and dropped the temperature to a lovely, bearable 80 degrees.

If you live in the United States, you'll know about how hideously, unbearably hot the past week has been. We keep our air conditioning at 78 degrees and it has felt like an ice box.

When we turn the air on you can be assured of 2 things: the outdoor temps are above 90 degrees, and we have turned it on to keep the children's brains from cooking in their skulls. I don't know if it is just my children or if it is ALL children, but the heat makes them grumpy and genuinely unpleasant to be around.

My patience has been wearing thin as we are on week 7 of summer break, and I simply will not put up with the bickering that comes from bored children. I banish them to the back yard or to their rooms. It's either banishment for them or a cocktail for me...

I'm not opposed to cocktails, but I do believe getting soused at noon would hinder my ability to make it to work on time...or even at all, really.

I keep telling myself that absolutely I will hit my second wind of the summer and have the drive to take the kids places (like hiking in the forest preserve! or to the water park!). But my new routine has me staying in my pajamas until I shower for work...at 2 pm. I have lost my will to GET THINGS DONE (beyond the basic necessary housekeeping duties).

Yesterday we went to Toys R Us (to spend gift cards from Christmastime) and then to Trader Joe's. I felt like we had been to the moon and back. Tomorrow is the farmer's market. I LOVE the farmer's market, but we haven't been in weeks due to my new pajama habit.

Maybe the break in the weather will be the motivation for me...that and my FAILED squash.

I was all excited for the teeny tiny baby squash that were appearing in the vine in the garden. When I went to check them this morning, they were yellowed and shrivelled.

Dear Squash,

Due to the unsatisfactory nature of our relationship, I believe it is past high time we gave up the charade. In short, it is not me. It is you.

I quit you.

Thanks,

Kara