. . .But it's a dry heat . . .?

A wise man once said, "Resist to blog whilst in bitchy mood." Since that guy will never know pregnancy, he can kiss my now "outie".

In my own defense, it's been some time since my last hormone-driven verbal lashing. I make no apologies for the negativity and idiosyncratic interpretation of my day that follows.

Don't get me wrong - there were some major highlights. I got to see my good friend Jenna, meet her new puppy, and have lunch with our friends and my former co-workers, Susan and Jaime. I hadn't seen them since my baby shower, and it was great catching up and laughing, as we always do when we're together.

Then, afterward, as I started running some errands, it hit me. By "it", I of course refer to the mother-loving, sopping HEAT that sweltered around me like a blanket of soaked washrags. Whatever drizzle that's been looming miles and miles away has impacted our desert landscape, making it feel like the Serengeti swamplands. I wanted meet every person that moved to Arizona because of the "awesome" weather, sit down with them, slap them across the face, stand up and walk away. By the time I arrived at the bank to cash a check, I was sweating from the inside, makeup melting down my face like a sad clown, my hair thrown up into a ponytail - a sticky firecracker stuck mid-explosion. I waddled into Bank of America and could just FEEL that this was going to take forever. It was then that I felt a spike of hot hormones rush throughout my body, my alter ego powerfully taking over - claws out and eyes narrowed.

Shit, here we go.

There were four people standing in line when I arrived. Minus one point for me. Each of the three bank tellers were seemingly busy attending to customers, but the longer each of them took (and the stronger the lava flow of hormones seeped through my veins), the more skeptical I became that transactions of any kind were taking place at all. Thoughts: "these tellers are sersiously just having a staring contest with their computer screens"; "Oh, hope you enjoy that nail-biting game of solitaire you must be playing behind that desk, because your customer has been standing in front of you for 5 MINUTES AND NOTHING'S BEING DONE"; "Yeah, look up at me. I'm pregnant, that's right, but no no, please - take your time. I LIKE standing in one spot, shifting my weight back and forth to lessen the severe swelling that is currently turning my feet into small boats. Toes are supposed to resemble smokey links." It was then that I noticed my fellow bank patrons, eyeing me up and down. I could FEEL them about to start asking me when I'm due, boy or girl, am I ready, is it hot out, or what?! etc. etc., and mentally begged the universe to apply a momentary cone of silence to their inquisitive butts (yes, I realize I will soon miss the days when people fawned over my belly and cared enough to ask about me. I appreciated it yesterday, and I'll adore it tomorrow. But today is a whole 'notha talk show. Uhhnnkay?)

In my attempt to hurry things along, I began to fan myself with the check to be cashed. Vigorously. 'Flap-flap-flap-flap'. Good. The louder the better. I felt like it was my duty to call attention to the abominable pace at which this establishment operated. People would notice me, huge and sweaty, the poor thing. The five of us in line would band together among the zig-zagged rope and demand that I be seen at once. I was atop somebody's shoulders as a slow-clap applause crescendoed around me when I snapped out of my daydream.

"Next!"

I was called up to the counter, greeted by a lovely girl, had my check cashed and was out the door in two minutes. Less interested in acknowledging the pleasant and timely transaction and more interested in continuing to feel sorry for myself, I forfeited any remaining errands and headed straight to the homestead, where I threw on some comfies, drew the blinds closed, blasted the AC, flopped onto the couch and treated myself to an extra popsicle. You know, for being so patient.


All jokes aside, the heat has most definitely been the one and only element of the pregnancy that has caused me distress (I guess the nosebleeds get second billing here, too). However, I know that as soon as I'm holding our little bundle in my arms and caressing his sweet face, the temperature will become a forgetful footnote in the story of our journey. Everything else has been fabulous, truly. I see my OB tomorrow for my 37 week visit, and plan to continue doing the two things I enjoy the most until he gets here: rest and nest. :)