Um, it's one hundred and eight degrees outside. And it's almost six o'clock. Wow-wee, mama.
My gray-faced old pitbull, Alyosha, is flopped on the bambo floor with her tongue hanging out. The black cat, Bixby, is sprawled out in the cool bath tub.
As for me, really, what else is a chick to do but put on a little nightie (100% lovely, light white cotton), turn off the sad news on the radio, crack open an icy Michelob Ultra, crank up the a/c and catch up on Tivo? Really, what else.