The Side Effects of Heat

It’s so hot right now. So damn hot.

It’s so hot I fill up a bathtub with cold water, sit on the side with my feet in and read books. I fill it up icy cold every morning and go pop my feet in throughout the day as the apartment heats up. It’s crazy, I know, but when your apartment goes up to 28 degrees by 5pm, you resort to anything. I’m drinking Grower’s Pear, for god’s sake. I’ll do anything to drop my body heat.

So will Colin, apparently.

Today, splayed out on the couch wearing the only thing I can tolerate, silk pyjama shorts and a lululemon tank top, I worked on blog posts for Bisou Bridal. I find that the heat really gets the creative juices going. Or not. I just had nothing better to do, and I like to pretend to be productive while I work on my dent in the couch, carefully positioning the fan so that I can hog the moderately cooler air.

For those of you with sensitive senses of humour, please take yourself to this post. I don’t think I said anything offensive, and who doesn’t like wedding dresses? For the rest of you fun people, join me on my afternoon adventure!

So, Colin left the living room to go to the bathroom. I totally ignored this because hello, Grower’s pear cider was kicking in and Pinterest was getting exciting. People be pinning on a Saturday, y’all!

So yes, I was very distracted, with my brain immersed in chantilly lace and sweetheart necklines. Far away. Until I heard a very distinct ‘plop,’ followed by a very distinct “Ooohhhh yeeaaaaaahhhh” from the bathroom.

Um, excuse me? I went bug eyed. What do you say when your relationship is suddenly taken to a whole new level, a level where you did not want to go and want to claw out of immediately if not sooner? What do you say when you transition from ‘couple’ to ‘old married couple who just don’t give a crap (literally) anymore?’.

You don’t say anything. Because, if you’re lucky, directly after the offending noises you will hear the familiar whoosh of bathwater. And you will look to the sky and thank the powers that be that you don’t have to pack up and move home to Vancouver in this ungodly heat. Because I would have packed that suitcase so fast, so help me god. I will deal with a lot of crap (sorry) but I will not go there.

Cue Meatloaf.

Yes, for those of you not following, Colin had simply dunked himself in my redneck kiddie pool. He did not offend allĀ sensibilities, he did not inadvertently end this relationship with his bathroom indiscretions. He did, however, cry tears of laughter when I timidly squeaked from the couch, “That was you getting in the bath, right?”

True love, am I right?

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