Shit, it is hot.

The dogs and cats are out of food. Which ordinarily isn't that big a deal, as I will have hubby go with me to the pet food store to pick up gigantic bags of each. I get him to schlep them upstairs and into the pet food bins. I just keep track of the discount card and checkbook balance. Easy enough, right?

WRONG. Hubby left this morning for a required business outing to Philadelphia. So I say, SCREW YOU PHILADELPHIA. All of ya. Except the 4 people I know that live around there and are awesome. Everyone else, go to hell for taking my dog food schlepper away from me. And let's not even talk about how you hoard all the good cheesesteaks, soft pretzels and water ice. Ohmigod, water ice. I would kill or die for a giant cup of water ice right about now. But that Rita bitch is holding out on us. There are no Rita's in IL. The closest Rita's is in Ohio. I looked. Anyways...

It's like 100 degrees outside. I'm not exaggerating, check the weather. Currently 94 degrees, that feels like 106 with the heat index. But to the Pregnant People of the world, it feels like A MILLION. Ohmigod it's so hot. I can't believe trees are still standing upright, they should be wilted. So hot.

So since I like my pets and want them to eat, I truck off to the pet food store with the plan in mind that I will buy the "medium" sized bags of grub for them instead of the super mega huge sized bags just this once. The huge bags end up costing less per pound, but when I'm the only person to carry them upstairs with this gigantic belly in 106 degree heat...the medium size is just going to have to do until Daddy gets home with the muscles. I got the food, loaded the truck, came home. Parked, and decided that one very difficult trip upstairs with two bags of food was better than two slightly difficult trips upstairs taking each bag separately. Because really, I just wanted to get inside. The thermostat is 72 degrees right now, and I want air conditioning air on my skin. Like, NOW. So I stack the bags and head upstairs. Now keep in mind that this is only like 27 pounds of dog and cat food. It's not that heavy. It's really not. On an ordinary day, non-pregnant me could just throw this over my shoulder and trot upstairs like it was nothing. But oh dear Lord save me, if you saw me walking towards the house you would have thought I was Christ carrying his cross up the hill. Sweat poured from every pore in my skin. I could barely breathe. I felt light-headed and dizzy. I saw black, just fields of black with brightly colored lights. This cannot be good. I feel woozy. Oh good, I'm inside now. Ah, feel that nice cool air. I plop the bags of pet food down on the hall floor and collapse into the loveseat. Oh, shit I'm not supposed to lay on my back. So I peel my sweaty self off of the leather and rearrange my boobs and belly and sweaty feet to lie on my left side and gently close my eyes. Head spinning. Oh God, please don't let me die. This would be a crappy way to go.

You would think I just ran the Boston Marathon or something, the way I feel so exhausted now. I would like to take a nap, preferably in a giant tub of ice water. My legs feel like spaghetti and I knew one glass wouldn't cut it, so I just brought the entire Pur water pitcher from the fridge to the couch with my glass. Mmm, water. Like I said, you'd think I just ran a marathon.

Next time I should carbo-load before I go buy dog food. Ugh.

Shit, it is hot.