Yeah, it will be 111 degrees today here in our small town. Which is good, because I had heard we were in for 114. Not that 3 degrees makes much of a difference when you’re in the triple digits already. 111 degrees. What do you do with that? You draw your shades and stay inside. My kids have found that screeching and climbing the walls helps. Personally, I feel the need to go through the house and make sure that every door is deadbolted, as if that’s going to keep the heat out. I guess that’s just the apocalypse paranoia speaking.
The weather has turned my dogs into mega-dorks. They whimper and whine. They tremble and shake, and whine some more. They hate being cooped up inside but they don’t want to go outside, either. (Sidenote: seriously, people, if you have an outside dog, please bring them in the house. If they won’t come inside, give them a pool of cold water, some shade, a fan. Don’t be that guy whose dog dies from heat stroke in the confines of a chainlink kennel, or tied up to a tree. Poor little pets.)
The little grass we have left is brown. Well, that’s a lie. Caleb and I watered the crap out of the grass (but mostly weeds) directly in front of the house, so that part’s green. But the rest is the color of scorched clay. It’s as depressing as February around here, only scarier because, you know, of the impending fiery end-of-the-world scenario and whatnot.
On these days I’m thankful that we have a kiddie pool instead of a giant pool, because we can dump out the hot water and refill it with ice cold water on a daily basis. Now if only we could venture outside between the hours of 8 am and 8 pm, we’d be all set.
I will leave you with this funny picture of a dog: