I have one thing to say to the weather at the moment:

Are you flipping kidding me?!?

Wait. I might have a few more things. I usually do.

Hot. Heat. To be heated thoroughly. I'm pretty sure that I could cook on my driveway, although I'm not all that tempted to try it.

The Bestest Friend is prone to hearing my obnoxiously sunny view of any and all weather around The Deep South. "It's raining!" she'll say. "Yes," I reply, "just think of how much my garden is loving it."

"It's raining AGAIN", I'll get a few days later. "Make it stop!".

"No," I sagely reply, "for once we're not going to have a rain deficit".

"I can't take it! It's too hot!" is usually answered with: "But this kind of heat only comes at the end of summer. It'll be over soon."

This year, I'm about to complain. I haven't yet, and this is my attempt to keep it back.

But sweet bleeding jesus, it is freaking hot. And it's only JUNE.

This is August weather. When the weather is like this, I console myself with thoughts like "This is summer trying to break you at the very end. September is a shorter month. If you survive, you get October. Lovely, fall-filled October. You love October. Just a few more days. Don't let summer win..."

This year, I'm wanting to commit murder on July and August. Because it's only June. And I'm already dehydrating.

So, instead of being sad that it's too hot to BREATHE outside, I'm going to focus on the only happy side effect of getting three months of August in one year: I'm going to make more Pina Coladas. That's the only reason God would let it be this hot at the beginning of June, right?