I hate July.
Every year, its the same damned thing.
I try to make myself buck up by reminding myself that at least we don't live in the freaking San Joaquin Valley anymore like my unfortunate daughter and her family.
"At least it's a dry heat," is no consolation either.
I hate being hot.
Grumble, grumble. (Graphic shamelessly stolen from the OC Register via the internet. So sue me.)
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