It is really hot where I live. Like triple digits hot. Like no need to go outside is good enough hot. Like lay on the couch all day under a fan and daydream about double-digit weather so I can drink wine without feeling like I'm undergoing early menopause.
Today, as I lay sweating on the couch, I saw this meme.
Seriously, where do these people live? I love pumpkin spice, but it is, after all, August, and the only pumpkin-flavored stuff I could eat right now is ice cream. Which I honestly don't even know if that exists, because pumpkin isn't exactly hot fudge and strawberry.
I can't bear it that I had to wear pants last week. Because last week, I went to work.
I love my job, but not in the first week of August. As an instructional coach, they added two weeks of training time to our contracts. Four days of training in a row, and I have a few more this week. And then, thankfully, the time to plan for the training we're going to turn around for our teachers the following week.
Can't lie. I'm totally excited about it. We're looking at responding to reading with reader's notebooks and writing across the curriculum. What could be better?
No, I'm not being sarcastic. I really love that stuff.
Did you just call me a nerd? What? That is so wrong.
Anyway, summer is totally, officially over, because I'm back at work. If you're still on summer, don't tell me. I can't handle it. Just lie. You know how when you're on a diet and someone's eating a cupcake (that you know is delicious) and they say, "Oh, it's not that good." That's what I need from you right now.
It's too hot for pants. Too hot for driving anywhere, even at 7:00 in the morning (boohoo) and too hot to finish putting together the new bookroom the district bought us. Too hot to move the millions of boxes of copies that are covering my tables in my otherwise-tidy room. And too hot for wine, which is really the worst part.