Seriously. These really are the dog days of summer. It’s hotter than a pig on a spit, it’s no-hair-product-will-ever-tame-this-frizz humid, everybody wants to go outside but nobody will because did I mention how hot it is outside? All anybody in my household wants to do is loaf around the house in tank tops and fundies, drink gallons of sun tea, and up the stupidity quotient by watching endless hours of summertime television. Which, as everybody knows, is 24 hours of stupid.
I feel bad for my dog. Even Hazel’s get bored of TV, and it’s too hot for her to go outside and run around. If you want to see what boredom looks like:
Sorry sweet pup, the sizzle is almost over. Then you can be a patio-surfing dog again, you can run around the verdant fields like Mary Doggy Poppins, and you can stop worrying about the constant buzz of the Ceiling Fan Monster.