Room service. Room service.

It is ungodly hot here. I have fully conceded that I cannot do heat, and that the only reason I’ve been able to handle August in any state/province before this is because it. Was. Temporary. Not nine months out of the year. Three months. Three is doable, three is me. I feel as though my brain has melted into my feet, and I didn’t even get to go to plaid.

(Just checked a local news site, and apparently we are in “An Excessive Heat Wave” till 10 p.m. tonight. Unreal, y’all.)

This of course means that I’ve been holed up inside mainlining TV, movies, and the internet. And since A. can’t escape, either, I’ve been guiding him through the complex universe that is Season Two of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Considering he hasn’t seen much of Season One, this has proved interesting.

It’s too hot to think. Here’s a picture of my dog eating a blueberry:

She would only eat it after we peeled it for her. What a sweet little jerk.

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