In England

It's 73 degrees. Or at least it will be tomorrow. I could really go for some of that, you know?

I just went to www.weatherchannel.com so that I could point out the difference between 73 degrees and the version of scorched-over hell I'm currently living in. This site informs me that it's 83 degrees in Provo. But that it only feels like 81.

Wow.

So even though I just drove to the DMV and almost swerved into oncoming traffic at the sight of my bright red sweaty face in the vanity mirror, it's only 83 degrees? Good to know it's all in my head.

Nevermind that I unbuttoned my shirt and blew frantically down my own cleavage while waiting for the air conditioning to kick in.

Or that I had to peel myself out of the car and felt every layer of my clothing unstick from my body in the manner of an oozing toilet plunger.

The National Weather Service, by the way, says that today the highs are around 100. I don't even want to repeat what I would like The Weather Channel to go do with itself, but suffice it to say that we are no longer on speaking terms.

Also, I've decided that I don't like hot summers anymore. It's all well and good when you're a kid and you can spend the entire 3 months submerged in water at the pool, even if it's a military base pool where they make you get out of the water and stand dripping on the side of the pool when they play the national anthem at the end of the day. (Man I miss that.) But when you're a grown-up with a job, a day like this is just torture. There was a really seedy motel just next to the DMV, but it seemed to have some semblance of a pool in the back and I seriously considered scaling the fence and throwing my fully-dressed self in the water, regardless of floating beer cans, cigarette butts, or gators.

I've told Savvymom that she should really get her daughter a kiddie pool. My super secret plan was that if she went out and bought one right now then I could go sit in it when I babysit her spawn tonight.

Me: I mean, don't you think she would like a kiddie pool? Don't you think she probably needs a kiddie pool?

SM: Hey, you can buy her one.

Me: How much are they?

SM: I dunno, 5 bucks or something.

Me: The crap? You won't spend 5 bucks on your daughter?

SM: I don't have 5 bucks. If you buy one today after work you can bring it when you come over tonight.

Some people are jerks.

Only what she doesn't know is that if I buy the thing then I'm the boss of it. And I decide who gets to sit it, and I just might let her roast her pregnant self to a crisp while Savvy and I play in the pool like happy people. Then once they're gone I'm going to eat all their ice cream.

So there.