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Sitting at my desk, writing notebook open, waiting for inspiration to strike.  After a weekend of errands and laundry and a birthday party and cleaning out the fridge, I have been looking forward to having some time to sit down and write.  Now I have the time.  And all I can think is damn, it’s hot.

I want a popsicle.

I want to swim in an icy pool.

Maybe I’ll go home and sit in the bathtub and have some ice cream because we don’t have a pool.

I wish we had a pool.

It’s so hot that my sundress is sticking to the back of my legs and I’m inside in the air conditioning.

Where are those cool nights and first hints of autumn?

I’m looking forward to a crispness in the air and leaves changing color and being able to use the oven without making the house so warm that we have to run around naked with ice packs strapped to us.

It’s 107 degrees outside and I want to make roasts in the oven and stews in my crock pot.

I want to make cornbread with the buttermilk that is in my fridge- warm, crusty cornbread to soak up the rich sauce from my stew.

Maybe I have some type of seasonal food displacement disorder.  When it finally feels like fall (some time in December, maybe) I will probably want to barbeque steaks to have with corn on the cob and peach cobbler.

Peach cobbler is kind of universal, though, isn’t it?  I could eat it for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

When it’s this hot, I worry about power outages and making sure my dogs have enough water and brush fires and whether the tires on my car will melt when I’m on my way to pick up my child from school.

I worry about strange things.

I realize this is southern California and it’s technically a desert, but 107 degrees at the end of September?

I am seriously contemplating shaving my head.  No hair is cooler than lots of long hair, right?

Then I could wear hats when it gets cooler.  You know, to keep my head warm.

Oh, who am I kidding?  It will probably never get that cool.  I’ll just be the bald crazy lady eating ice cream in a bathtub of cold water with my child and my dogs tucked in next to me.

I have a big bathtub.

I am completely unmotivated to do anything more than sit right now because even that is requiring effort.

And yes, that causes me guilt on many levels.

Damn, it’s hot.


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The Guilt Goddess

Giving guilt a voice one post at a time.

I am your average guilt-ridden mother of one (or 2, if I'm being honest and including my husband), trying to balance running my own business, running my household and now writing a blog. Someday I hope to have vanquished all of my myriad pangs of guilt and be living blissfully free from moment-to-moment. But, until that time, my guilt will live here.

Twitter: @guiltgoddess

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