If you were to read this blog aloud: read in a high-pitched whine.

It is too hot. I'm pretty sure it's still early June and I don't know if I will make it through the summer. Mid-90's? Seriously? Already? I was born in Oregon, people. I don't do hot.

This unreasonable heat is seriously disrupting my life.

"Cooking" has taken its summer turn earlier than usual, moving from a traditional form of heating food and eating it, to something I like to call "snip open a few bags, pour the contents on plates and eat." This weather leads me to attempt to convince my husband that a bagged salad really is enough food for dinner. Then I find the poor guy looking feverishly into cupboards less than two hours later, ravaged by hunger.

What is already seen by many as a poor excuse for a dog is looking even sorrier in this heat. My Chihuahua's walks quickly deteriorate into me essentially dragging him on his leash. The tongue is reaching for the ground. "Come on!" I tell him. "It's cooler inside! Let's go home buddy!" He's too smart to fall for that. Then he tries to collapse on the grass.

"Sleeping" has also gone down the toilet. It was less than a month ago that we put away the down comforter for the season. For a week or two I wondered whether we had jumped the gun because nights were still so chilly. Ha! At this point the top sheet is lucky if it gets enlisted for duty. The cat has given up her snuggly position at the foot of the bed for cooler environs in the living room.

If you're a heat hater like me, maybe we could get together for dinner sometime this week. How does cheese and crackers sound?