I was trudging determinedly up the last hill of my run last night. I only had about half a mile to go before I was done. The heat index was 107 and the humidity was approximately 1,000%. I looked like I'd stood in the shower in my clothes, and I was contemplating how awesome it would be if I could have gills like Kevin Costner's. Courtney Love was grating in my ear about a skinny little bitch and I was doing my best impression of the little engine that could. And then...
I got doused by the mosquito fogger.
On the plus side, no mosquitoes will breed on me for at least the next month, so I've got that going for me.
My husband told me I looked Pentecostal again this morning. Which was not as well received as the last time. He has been married just long enough that he doesn't always realize he is ABOUT to put his foot in it, but he always knows immediately afterwards exactly what he shouldn't have said. So he backpedaled and said I looked like a SEXY Pentecostal chick. Oddly, that didn't make me feel any better about it.
And now my work computer just tried to commit ritual suicide by flinging itself to the floor and smashing into my ankle. Awesome. I have no proof that these two incidents are related, except of course for the fact that they TOTALLY ARE.
I think maybe I won't be driving anywhere for lunch today. Just as a precaution.