Chicago Fire

It is hot.
IT IS SO HOT.
I know I live in Arizona now, but I SWEAR it is much. Worse. Here.

The Red Line was broiling. BROILING. I couldn't even get out my iPod I was so hot. I just slumped into the seat and melted, peeping all the unhappy people around me. WE ARE NOT MEANT TO LIVE THIS WAY! Before catching the bus, I bopped into Walgreens for nail polish remover, and the blast of AC was so icy I really did not want to leave. Cut to me marveling at the FROYO STATION. That's right. FROYO IN WALGREENS. And in the snack station little honey greek yogurt parfaits or organic hummus wraps. I whimpered, "If there is a God, He will lock all the doors from the inside out, and I will never leave this place. Everyone inside will form our own micro-community, and we shall repopulate as 'Greeners' for all infinity inside this one blissfully cold and swanky drugstore."

So, officially. There is no God. BLAZING BUS RIDE HOME.

Die, summer. Die in a fire!