The Heat Makes Me The Laziest Blogger on Earth (Or At Least in Park Slope)

I hate the summer in New York. There I said it. I do not want to sit outside at our favorite bar, I do not want to lounge in the park, I do not want to traipse around the city in flip flops in a dress. I hate the summer in New York.

Here's what happens around New York in around February. The holidays have ended and Valentine's Day is over. Suddenly, everyone is in a chocolate heart induced funk and people start proclaiming "I cannot wait until the summer!!"

Let me tell you what I say in February. I say "I wish it was colder! I wish it were cloudier! I LOVE THAT IT IS DARK AT 4:42 PM!"

And then the inevitable terrible thing happens. Memorial Day Weekend comes and goes and suddenly it is the summer and I want to murder Dilly for sitting on my lap after work because SHE IS A TINY FURNACE and our house does does not have central AC, which is literally the only thing I want in life from May-September (the rest of the year its a dishwasher).

In case you were wondering, this is a tiny fan that I had to buy at the KMart on Astor place because for a week my office was actually 90 degrees. I have never been prettier, let me tell you.

Now I would like to tell you some other reasons I do not like the summer in New York City:

  • The subway is hot. Its so hot that when I'm waiting for the F train, I long for the gust of approaching subway breeze because its moving air. That is just a puff of dirty air coming at me very quickly, not a refreshing breeze. I disgust myself 
  • Sometimes its so hot out that your mascara melts off. Did you know that happens? I didn't until my sister pointed out my mascara-less lashes on the subway home last week. My naked lashes thank you for shaming them, Alyssa!
  • There are too many people with skin exposed that should not be exposed (I neither want to see your under boob or your butt cheek)
  • I can never get our iced coffee to taste as good as the bagel place's iced coffee and my iced coffee budget has ballooned as a result (because who wants to have hot coffee on their morning commute at this time of year?)
  • Seriously our cats are tiny furnaces. I want to snuggle them when I get home but when I hold them I literally feel like I'm going to combust into a ball of flames 
  • Why can I not get my hair do look nice in a pony tail? You know those girls that have beautiful pony tail hair? Its full and not flat on the top but doesn't look like she has a Bump-It under there? I can't get my hair to do that. As a result, my hair is constantly on top of my head in a mess because it can't touch my neck! 

When I get home, I want to lay in front of the fan. I do not want to blog. I do not want to talk to my Mom on the phone.  I do not want to cook dinner. I don't even want to crochet if is more than 78 degrees in my house (which it often is) because touching the yarn makes me hot. 

But here's the thing: I think in blog posts? Like when I'm on the subway or walking to work or laying in bed at night, I think about my day in terms of blog posts. Titles, first lines, pictures to include. 

And so, I'm back! 

Also, because I missed your lovely faces and comments and I can't justify watching Law & Order: SVU marathons without doing something at least mildly productive. 

Onward, July! 

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