heat wave

It’s beastly hot here today. The high is 99, and already it’s dangerously warm in our little condo. Our house is reasonably well insulated so it’s never unbearable like it was at the old place, but it’s still quite toasty on days when the temperature approaches 100.

My sister (who doesn’t have a fun nickname – perhaps Auntie Pep? She was a cheerleader in high school, after all) is flying in for the weekend. She is a pale, blonde health nut; I suspect the sheer amount of solar energy in the air will cause her to burst into flames the minute she steps outside. And stepping outside is inevitable – we will go on walks, and play at the park, and generally do things that healthy people do. Also, she eats things like flax. I am mildly terrified.

The combination of beastly heat, cranky baby and brain-scrambling math homework made it all but impossible for me to get much housework done yesterday. You try scrubbing countertops while trying to wrangle a grabby baby. Forget about putting him down: if I’m not in the same room he is, Happy Fun Baby assumes I’ve left him for the gypsies and reacts accordingly. I’ve tried explaining that the kitchen is right there and he can see me if he looks, but he’s not buying it. Yesterday I had to put him in the sling just so I could finish making my lunch. It’s a good thing he’s so cute:

Anyway, I am cleanliness-challenged at the moment. The timing couldn’t be worse, since I have what practically amounts to a phobia about a messy house and guests. I want to foster the illusion that I am a competent housekeeper. Is that so wrong?

Not So said he’d take care of cleaning up downstairs last night, but apparently we have different definitions of “downstairs.” When I think of the downstairs area, it includes areas like the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. Considering that’s pretty much all that comprises our first floor, I feel pretty justified. Not So swept the hallway and started the dishwasher, and this morning he took out the trash, which just leaves me with…the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. Oh and the downstairs bathroom. In addition to the upstairs, which isn’t too bad but still involves bathroom-scrubbing, carpet-vacuuming and laundry-doing. In the sweltering heat, with a cranky baby. But at least today I don’t have math homework! (Not much, anyway.)

I’m very excited about seeing my sister, though. Happy Fun Baby is going to be in baby heaven. Auntie Pep is a party, even if she does have funny ideas about what food is made of.

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4 thoughts on “heat wave”

  1. Hee. We’re from Santa Cruz, where it’s practically a requirement to eat stuff like that. Poor Not So was tormented with carob as a child. He’s still traumatized.

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  2. LOL, my mom always asks me if we “are eating real food or that fake stuff again?”. (I am pretty sure flax would fall into her fake category, as does anything made with soy.)

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