The heat index hit 115 degrees today in Hillmomba. That is too dang hot. Thank the Gummi Mary, I can sit in my cool basement and gaze at my Christmas tree.
I was hoping to score a tropical ice slushy kind of thingy today when I went to a neighboring town. But the darn shack was closed up tighter than Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's purse strings. It's a sad day when the temperature is too high to open the icy shop.
The girl at Sonic did not bring out my refreshing Diet Coke. I had to wait in line in shiny black T-Hoe until it was my turn at the window. Then I had to wait some more. She finally brought my elixir, and commented, "We had to fix the machine for your Diet Coke." Was it too hot for a cold pop? Was she insinuating that I, alone, wore out the Diet Coke dispenser? It was too hot to argue.
The county road-ditch-mower must have been delirious from the heat. He took out two mailboxes on our stretch of county blacktop. There might be a trail of postal carnage across the county.
I'm trying to conserve electricity by not doing the laundry and not cooking and not running the vacuum and not washing dishes so the water heater doesn't have to kick on. Isn't that selfless of me?