Sunday, July 8, 2012


This heat. I just can't. It is completely inescapable and horrible and draining, and all sorts of other adjectives I can't think of right now, because I'm so, well, drained. I realize it's summer and all that but this just too much. 

I'm also feeling really rather awful. Not sure if it's the heat, my horrible diet lately, or a combination of the the two, but my stomach is not happy, not at all, not even a little bit. It's put a bit of a damper on the to-do list I was hoping to knock out this weekend before I have to work the next couple weekends in row.  

But, angry stomach and horrifying heat aside, it's still been a pretty good weekend, full of reading, shopping, lunching, and churching. It didn't really get off to a proper start on Friday until after I climbed off of the train I was trapped on for an HOUR in a tunnel outside of L'Enfant station (without cell phone service at that). After that little adventure, thanks to a different train re-railing further north (caused by, you guessed it, the heat), I found my friend at Jazz in the Sculpture Garden, where she was, much to my relief, waiting with a few bottles of clandestine wine and a spot for both of us to put our feet in the fountain. Much to her relief, my mysterious hour of radio silence was not on account of my having been kidnapped, mugged, or otherwise endangered.  

snapped by my friend, after I'd sufficiently calmed down post-metro delay
another Jazz in the Sculpture Garden shot by my friend (mine was far less artsy)

I suppose it was better than last Friday, when the temperature was also hovering near 100 degrees, and I was strapped to a heart monitor, which, in case you were wondering, is super uncomfortable to wear when it's 100 degrees. It's pretty uncomfortable in general, but especially when it gets really toasty out, and the probes are sticky and itchy. It's also quite the conversation piece, as one of the five probes rests smack in the middle of your upper chest, and if you're not aware in advance that you'll spend 24 hours hooked up to one, you don't think to wear a shirt that would disguise it. If you're lucky like me, that surprise will coincide with a retirement party at your office at which all of your (nosy) coworkers have gathered. 

So anyways, that's why I was on my way to the cardiologist before work the other day: I had to return the lovely monitor for their analysis. I'm happy to report that, at least for 24 hours, my heart functioned precisely as it's meant to, aside from a small heart murmur that the doctor discovered as part of the hour and a half I spent in his office on "heart monitor Friday." Side note, I also got to see my heart via ultrasound that morning at his office, which was pretty much the coolest thing ever.

And with that excitement behind me, all I really want is a week with sub 100 degree temps and no metro delays (and ok, a vacation to look forward to would be nice, too). I think I can hear my fellow DCists laughing from my perch on the couch, but hey, a girl can dream. 

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