desert-790640_640It’s. Freaking. Hot.

Excuse the borderline profanity, but frankly, nothing else, aside from the actual profanity, adequately expresses how freaking hot it is.

This entire summer has blasted the East Coast–and likely the rest of the U.S., but I’m so self-absorbed and crushed by the heat that I’m not sure–with searing, open the freezer just to stick your head in, I’m going to burst into flames any moment, temperatures. In fact, it’s been so hot that Satan and his minions are grateful they’re resting comfortably in Hell and not here. Bad guys everywhere are swearing off evil just in case Hell feels half this disgusting. Plus, it’s just too hot commit a crime, as that generally requires running and no one is doing that.

It’s so hot that you really can fry an egg on the sidewalk, as proven by folks on You Tube who have taken to the streets to cook eggs, pizza, cookie dough and, in one instance, a macaroni and cheese casserole on the pavement.

If you were one of those demented kids who held a magnifying glass over ants, you now know what that feels like if you step outside into direct sunlight. Turf and stadium temperatures at baseball games read, “What the hell are you doing out here; it’s too hot to have fun.” It’s been too hot to eat, drink or do anything other than hit the “On” button on the air conditioning and lay on the floor. (And yes, The Sandlot is a classic. See below.)

Which brings me to my current dilemma. I’m sitting here, trying to write something that will amuse, entertain, educate, or whatever. But it’s SO HOT I that can barely put two words together, let alone multiple sentences. Plus, the only thing I can think about is how hot it is. And my fingers are sweating as I type this. I never knew fingers could sweat.

So I am giving myself, and you, dear readers, the day off. I’m going to stop writing and I suggest you stop reading. Find an air conditioner or a fan and stick yourself in front of it. Open the freezer and see how far in you can insert your head. Pour water over whatever body part you can find. Sit in a tub of ice for a few hours. And for the love of god, don’t do anything that would generate heat and add to this misery.

Come February, it’s a safe bet I’ll be whining about the cold. But right now I’m going to go and sit on a tray of ice cubes. Because…It’s. Freaking. Hot.