Hot hot hot.

Someone told me recently that this is the hottest summer Chicago has had in years. Decades. Millenia. Look: I don't need to know. It could be the coolest summer we've had recently and I'd still probably be uncomfortable. It's hot. And worse, it's humid. I stepped outside to run this morning at 7am and it was in the 80's and felt like someone was misting piss into the air-- a heavy, warm, dull, drenching mist. I come home dripping after running just 3 miles at what's probably barely a 12:00/mile shuffle. It's gross.

The whole pregnancy thing is like having a 25 pound weight belt on that I can't take off, then walking through the most miserable kind of warm day you could imagine. I totally underestimated what this would feel like. I'm beginning to fantasize about teleportation devices that would get me just from the air conditioned house to the air conditioned office, a mere 6 blocks away. I'm getting so puffy from the weather that I've taken to wearing the wedding ring around my neck. Ben bought me a nice new chain for it. I feel like I'm wearing his class ring. Whatever, it works.

Only, oh, 8 more weeks of this. Blerg.