Lazy, hazy, crazy
days of summer.
Those days of sodas
and pretzels and beer.
Right.
Except when you live in Las Vegas. Right now we are under a heat advisory. All that means is that it's going to be hot.
Real hot.
112 in the shade.
At the airport.
Under an eave.
It was common knowledge that the real temperature in Las Vegas was never advertised. The reason was it would scare away the tourists. When it was 112 add another 5 or 6 degrees to it and you'd get the real temperature. Of course, that wasn't the case if you were near asphalt or in the lower parts of the valley.
It really is hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk. I hate the heat.
I've been laying in bed with the covers over my head because if it isn't hot enough I've got a nice sized flare going on. The last couple of days it's been unreal. The only thing I want to do is stay in the tub and let the jets swirl around this tired, pained body. There is a support group meeting tonight and even if I have to crawl there, I'm going. The group is going to talk about doctors and things that work for pain.
I need it.
The other woman I spoke to is feeling icky also but she feels the same way. We need to do this.
Considering that everyone I know is having some kind of flare or problem right now,
It should be one hell of a meeting.
