It’s too hot: An ode to a heatwave

Parenting and life

It’s too hot to be inside, it’s way too hot to be out.

It’s too hot to walk, it’s too hot to get in the car.

It’s too hot for deodorant to be anywhere near effective. It’s definitely too hot to go on public transport.

It’s too hot to go to the park, it’s too hot to go to soft play. They don’t even have air conditioning there, the cheap bastards.

It’s definitely too hot to have small, sweaty children clinging to your leg and whining because they’re too hot. Whining isn’t my favourite at the best of times to be fair but this is near unbearable.

It’s too hot to work, it’s too hot to tidy, it’s too hot to relax, it’s too hot to exist. It’s too hot to exist with boobs. Ugh. Or thighs.

It’s too hot for Pritt Stick, and now I have it melted all over my new patio. It’s too hot to scold, it’s too hot to care.

It’s too hot to stand in front of the oven, cooking food that no one will eat because it’s too hot. Ice Lollies for breakfast, lunch and dinner it is.

It’s too hot to sleep. Everyone’s grumpy. It’s too hot to be happy.

It’s too hot to hold a coherent conversation, or to think sensible thoughts.

It’s too hot for clothes, it’s too hot for a damn cup of tea and ergo it’s too hot to human. I didn’t even know eyeballs could sweat.

It’s too hot for Satan himself. I imagine he’d be planning a holiday to Iceland at the moment if he was here.

It’s. Too. Hot.

Enough, cheers.

Agree? Disagree? Never felt so much unbridled rage? Leave a comment!

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