So, I know that I complain about the heat and then I get comments telling me about how my state is like 10 degrees cooler than all the really hot states and that I’m a wimp and I try to justify my sweat stains by reminding people that I’m like 83 months pregnant or some absurd thing (like anyone could forget, especially me – lately whenever I walk I bump into things, like you know sometimes you are carring a bag and you don’t realize how big it is and the bag bumps everything you walk by? Or you drive a new car and you aren’t really sure just how long the front end is and you are worried you are going to crash into everything? That’s my stomach right now – it needs it’s own insurance policy for all the damage I’ve been doing to it. I can’t open a cabinet or drawer or door without bashing myself in the stomach with said item because dude I’m huge.
And none of that has anything to do with how hot it is except that all that huge just makes me hotter. It doesn’t help that our apartment has one air conditioning unit in the living room which can pretty effectively keep the living room and dining room cool, but that’s about it. So for the other rooms in the house, like the kitchen, bathroom and three bedrooms, we are kind of on our own. We’d been keeping a window fan in our bedroom until last night when I pointed out that it was supremely selfish of us to have a fan in the bedroom when poor MM was stuck with just opening his window and has been waking up in a pool of his own sweat (like I did this morning now that he has ownership over the fan). Tonight after dinner we’re buying a second window fan. Then we’ll figure out how to “toddler proof” the fan in MM’s room (nevermind the baseboard heater underneath the window that MM is pretty sure is a step stool so he can see out the window and yeah that’s gonna be a whole ‘nother post later where I beg you guys for advice, but since heaters are for the winter when it’s COLD and right now I’m writing about the summer where it’s HOT, we’ll move on or at least try to) so he doesn’t lose a finger or crack his head open or something. I swear three year olds are just walking danger magnets.
And that’s just inside the apartment. I’m pretty smart and pretty much don’t leave the apartment during the day if I can help it because pregnancy and stairs and heat don’t really like each other, but today I had a doctors appointment (more about that on Thursday) so I had to go out and I swear to you guys it was 98 degrees outside. Like according to the thermometer in my car and the one in my bedroom window. 98 degrees and no ridiculously hot guys serenading me. Life is unfair. Please don’t tell me that 98 degrees is like a cool day in the Spring where you live – it was hot enough that the news stations on the radio were issuing heat warnings, telling people to avoid going outside. Seriously. It’s freaking hot out.
I know people have complained since the beginning of time that being pregnant in the summer can suck because it’s hot and your huge and it sucks, but those people have never been me up until this summer so right now it’s like this new novel thing that I am pretty sure is worth complaining about at great length, especially in ADDesque blog posts. So yeah I think that’s all for now because what was supposed to be a quick post saying, “It’s really freaking hot out,” has turned into a novella – so remind me to tell you about how the doctor’s office went, how my ultrasound report says that I was there for my “poor weight gain” and how “unremarkable” Baby Blueberry is apparently. All that.
Oh – and I had lunch with Dan at his office today and I thought you should know that their office basically has like a gourmet dining cafeteria thing going on, complete with like four choices for dessert – and they even list the nutrition info for their daily menus online somewhere. Dream Company continues to impress. Too bad I had to go outside in practically 100 degree weather to eat there.