Actually, we're in the middle of a heat wave in SoCal. The temperature has been hovering between 80-95 degrees for the better part of a week. This does not bode well for this weekend's meet at my daughter's gym, as the ancient swamp coolers do not work all that well. Fundraising efforts for the last couple of years have been focused on getting some modern air conditioning put in so our kids don't die of heat stroke during the summer months. Each time we think we're there, the estimate to get the job done jumps by several tens of thousands of dollars. So visitors to our gym today will not be comfortable in this unseasonably hot weather.
Neither will our kids. Megan competes at 5:00 p.m. -- well after the mercury peaks. She should be OK. But I feel bad for all the girls who must perform at the midday session. It won't be very comfortable for them.
No, the weather referred to in the title of this post is within me.
I'm feeling a tad depressed. Actually, I've been openly weeping, which annoys my husband (because he can never understand it nor fix it and that leaves him frustrated). He tries to rationalize with me, and what I'm feeling isn't rational.
I'm feeling unloved, ineffectual and kind of useless. And even though I sort of know that's not true, that's how I feel and nothing he says is going to change it until the clouds pass.
I don't get this way all that often - but often enough to know I just have to ride the storm.
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