I'm a little...concerned...about August. It doesn't seem to be as hot as previous Augusts in recent memory. I'm able to actually go outside during the day. And if you're in the shade? It's a cloudy day? The sun has gone down? Sweet little hints of fall.
It's like I'm waiting for the punch line of some terrible joke. For August to be all, "Ha! FOOLED YOU. It's going to be 100 degrees for the rest of me! And humid. September, too. I texted him yesterday and he is totally going to be smokin' hot. Man, you are so gullible. I bet you didn't even know that the word gullible isn't in the dictionary."
(It's there, don't look it up.)
So I've been suckered into pulling out some fall outfit ideas, and now that I've crossed that autumn line, I'm not going to be able to go back to spaghetti straps and short shorts. (I know. I tried this weekend and it did not work.)
What I mean is, I'm probably going to burn up between here and real fall. Or just melt. A big, melty, layered puddle in my leopard loafers.
Staring at a potential puddle location
At least the tropical storm rain will wash me away,