I. Hate. The. Heat.

It’s usually around mid-January when I see my South Carolina friends and family start talking about how they’re over the cold. And by “cold,” I mean that the high is usually in the upper 40s. Sure, we get a couple of frigid days here and there, but for the most part, I don’t have to wear a jacket.

This is how they think it is, and they wish a plague o’ the house of anyone who dare says they want winter to last longer than the 4-6 weeks that we get or complains about summer coming on.

I am not built to live in the south. I just am not. Temperatures over 75 absolutely suck ass, because that usually means it’s 85+ with the humidity. I feel miserable in the heat, I break out in a heat rash, and I’m cranky because heat. The only way I can deal with it is to be on a boat in the ocean or sitting on my ass by the ocean. Between the breeze and the ocean, my crankiness will go away at least. (And when went on a cruise a few weeks ago, it was actually 15 degrees cooler in the Bahamas vs. when we got off the boat in SC.)

It is hot as balls outside right now. I hate that saying, and it’s not like I have balls, but I feel like it works. It was in the upper 90s today, god knows what the real feel was, and even at 7:30 in the evening, it is 82 degrees in my house. Fuuuck. My poor AC can’t keep up, and a) we bought it last year and b) it is larger than needed for our house, but we got it wholesale and thought that as poor as our smaller AC performed, a larger unit would be more than enough. We. Were. Wrong. (But at least we have one, unlike many of the folks in Europe with that heatwave they had a week or so ago. I can’t even imagine.)

I’ve been trying to get my husband to move for years, but nope. He could relocate to Scranton, PA if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. (Just like he didn’t want to work in London for a year back when LM was small. SIGH. Not that I’m bitter over that or anything.) He said he doesn’t want to do all the snow, but I’ll take a couple months of snow for temps that are otherwise decent for the most part. He doesn’t want to move away from his mom and stepdad, which I understand, but I still don’t like the idea of having to live somewhere for that reason alone. My family is here, but distance would be lovely, so other than his folks, we don’t have much tying us to this town. Maybe I’ll fake a heat stroke on his ass and see if that sways him. (I know, I know, bad joke.)

This is my second ranty post in as many days. Did I say the heat makes me cranky, yet?

A Rant And A Recap

Well, this was meant to be posted on Monday, but here we are on Wednesday.

I’m a pretty handy person, but I cannot undo the damage my husband did to our front door. He thought the handle was sticking a little, so he tried to fix it. And his fix means that it is now damn near impossible to get in the front door of our house. You have to press down on the button thingy on the handle with both hands, apply a lot of pressure (more than what our 100-pound son can muster), and if you’re lucky, it’ll open. It usually takes several tries and a handful of curse words to open.

And the back door is bad, too. He thought some air was getting in under the door last winter, so he screwed a strip of wood or something in the door frame. Because maybe he’d save a couple bucks on his power bill. And now, not only does no cold air come in (and I was confused about the air that was getting in last winter, because IT WASN’T COLD), but I also cannot close the door tight enough to lock the deadbolt. My husband is the only person in our home who can lock the back door. He says the door is fine and we’re just not doing it right and insists on keeping it the way it is.

Last week, I noticed that the door was unlocked and my husband was already in bed. Rather than wake him (and likely get no response), I tried to lock the door. I leaned on that door as hard as I could, but nope. I even took a running start and rammed my shoulder against the door in the hope of getting it close enough to do the deadbolt, but also, nope.

I need different doors or locks, people. Or a husband who will leave stuff alone.

Rant over.

We had a pretty good long weekend. We did fireworks on the fourth. We don’t usually do fireworks and the such because we aren’t very patriotic, but BG wanted fireworks, so she got them. She later regretted this when one of the fireworks “attacked us.”

So, my husband lit one of the big fireworks he bought and it started going off, but it was firing sideways. I told him I didn’t think that looked right, but he insisted it was fine, even though it was dangerously close to hitting the neighbors house. And then it shifted somehow and fired where I was standing with the kids. Like, two feet away from my head. I grabbed BG and ran (sorry LM) while fireworks whizzed past us. We did not become an ER statistic that night, thankfully. The girl has complained a lot about how her daddy attacked us with fireworks. Never again.

On Saturday, the kids stayed over with the grandparents while my husband and I went to a cookout at a friend’s house. I was not looking forward to peopling, but they had so much rum. So much. Between the rum, a pool, and a hot tub, I enjoyed myself. I tried to play volleyball and embarrassed myself, but that would’ve happened rum or no rum, because I suck at volleyball. 

We didn’t do much on Sunday, and yesterday, BG had to go to the doctor for her five-year checkup. Just ten minutes after we got there, BG loudly announced that she had been waiting for two and a half hours and she was ready to go. After much shushing, she shifted gears from complaining to filling up my camera roll with her random pictures:

That’s her Forky and heart. I’ll pass on including the ones where you get a good look up my nostrils.

The checkup was all good. BG’s still petite (9th percentile for height and weight) and didn’t grow much from last year. She’ll probably have a growth spurt after we buy and take the tags off of her school uniform stuff 😉 We talked to the doctor about the ASD diagnosis, and she said she was glad that we got a second opinion and that’s what she thought was going on, too. She gave me a list of books to check out that she said she found helpful with her own child, so my stack of books is continuing to grow.

And I’m going to wrap up the post because a) it’s two days late and I can’t remember how I wanted to end it and b) my son wants to have a staring contest for some reason.