I want to die. Or move to Greenland, or the inside of a refridgerator, or something. Seriously, it was like 39�C/102�F out yesterday, and like 75 fucking percent humidity. Who lives in this weather? And remember when I puked all over the floor outside my bedroom door? Maybe it's not morning sickness because I'm dying with the flu. I told you it had something to do with Bean interfering with my immune system. I missed orientation for work yesterday because I don't think I even dared getting out of bed until I really had to go and pee. So, does this give me a reason to want to vacate my life and just skip the summer?

I went to work this morning... it wouldn't take long, as one of my bosses attested. Pick up the keys, get some paperwork, get accustomed to things. I am practically dying with the plague, right? I ended up staying there for four hours. So cruel. I'm stuck taking care of the 5-7 year-olds too. I want to die. Even better? All next week, I work the early shift: 7:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Maybe I should just tell them I'm pregnant and to fuck off. Or have a mental breakdown. It's all this heat and humidity making me complain, I swear. Because it's driving me crazy more than anyone else. I mean, I can usually put up with other people's whining, but holy SHIT, when did people make it a point to go out of their way to bitch and moan 24/7? Geez.

I promised my household some pizza like, days ago. All the ingredients are aging in the fridge, so I should see if I can get it all done and in the oven before I need to go and have a moment, or a lot of moments, with the toilet. Not that I've managed to really eat anything today, sorry Bean. I want air conditioning. I deserve air conditioning.

And my sister's gone, everyone applause!

I'm wearing: Sports bra, denim shortalls
I'm listening to: Nothing, really
I'm thinking: I hate this heat