I’m calling it – I’ve officially melted into the hot concrete in the hot city streets of Boston. I am frying like an egg and for the first time in my life, I don’t like that egg. Figuratively speaking. I’d be a weird little egg, especially fried.
All yolks aside, this heat wave is not doing me any favors. I can not run in this weather. It’s impossible to breathe and move around in this humidity. And like a true Bostonian, I know I’ll complain about the cold and wish for summer in just a few short months. By the way, I am not sorry for that yolk joke – I’m quite proud of it actually. This heat wave is not taking away my funnies.