These are the dog days of summer. At least, I think they are — because honestly, I don’t know what, exactly, the “dog days” are. If, by “dog days”, they mean OMFG IT’S TOO FRICKING HOT AND HUMID then, yes, they are. What, do dogs sweat a lot or something? Because the phrase “sweating like a pig” also comes to mind, and, in that case, perhaps they should be called the “pig days of summer”.

There you go. I’ve coined a phrase, and a catchy one at that. And at the same time, I’ve let the dogs off the hook for the responsibility for these arsingly humid days. AND I’ve given pigs some much-needed facetime in current vernacular. So. You’re welcome.

Anyway, it’s frigging hot. But for whatever reason, I’ve chosen these days to DO ALL THE THINGS. Which could indicate that the heat is melting my brain. I am running around doing errands and making calls and going to the grocery store like some kind of wizard.

In a car with busted air conditioning. Yep. Heat melting my brain.

It’s okay. If we’re not outside doing things, then we are at home and That Baby is shouting “WHY! WHY! WHY!” at me, to indicate “PUT ‘SUPERWHY’ ON THE TELEVISION, YOU STUPID WOMAN, FOR THE LOVE OF DOG I AM BORED”. So rather than hear the SuperWhy themesong ONE. MORE. TIME., we go out.

Today, we went and did a name change for Stinkerbelle’s health card. It’s just one more tiny part in the endless bureaucracy of adopting a child, and one we have been slacking about. So we booked an appointment for today, and off we went.

Nine in the morning is a fair time to drive one’s air-conditioning-deficient car on a stupidly hot and humid day. It is still cool and the fans are blowing cool air on the occupants. So we arrived cool and fresh as a daisy at the government office.

And OMG what an office! This is one sexy building. Cool and terraced inside with glass and tile and the smell of government money — it was NICE. I may just go sit in the lobby on the next hot day and let Stinkerbelle run round and round in the revolving door.

But today was not for such amusements. Today we had an APPOINTMENT. So while That Baby shouted her brains out about doG knows what and did her high-steppin’-I-got-the-rhythm-in-me-I-can’t-stop-it thing all around the office, I did the paperwork for her name change.

It went mercifully quickly, and we got out while it was still cool-ish.

So, feeling optimistic, I decided we should head over to The Little Gym and have a little look-see and check things out. Which we did. And, as the temperature in my tin can car got exponentially hotter as we drove along, by the time we arrived I was sweaty like I had jogged there.

The woman at the desk was pleasant, and asked if we had 45 minutes to try a class out and see if we liked it.

This was a surprise, but I figured, hey — air conditioning. So I said yes.

A word to the wise: Air conditioning means little in an industrial building full of running around kids. Just sayin’.

But we stayed, and we participated, and it was good. It was good enough to convince me that this would be a good program for Stinkerbelle.

So, at the end, I said we’ll sign up for the September session.

And she said, “That will be $375 please.”

GULP.

I hesitated. I had scanned their website sixteen ways from Sunday and had not seen a fee schedule. All I saw was that a membership cost $35, and so, somewhat naively I grant you, I just assumed…

No. It was much, MUCH more than that.

I tried not to stagger backwards and hiding my surprise behind oh-so-cool stammering, stuttering and waffling, I debated walking away. But Stinkerbelle really enjoyed herself, and the program would be very good for her. And it was almost 6 months of exercise, interaction with other kids, and organized class time.

So, we’d have to cut out one of the other programs in town we wanted to register her for in order to afford this one. Fortunately, my attempts to sign her up for another program yesterday failed SPECTACULARLY — do not ASK me to recount it for you; suffice it to say it involved a voice message that essentially said, “We know that demand for these programs is high, but even though our advertising says ‘Call this number to register’, we are not answering the phones to register people. You should come and register in person. But we know that not everyone can do this. So, if you leave a phone message, we won’t call you back. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

Soooo… Decision made. (The Little Gym will get your money, government organization bastards. HAHAHAHAHAHA.)

I registered That Baby for her program, and off we went, out the door considerably poorer and into the scorching midday heat. Where we got into our mobile sauna of a vehicle and drove off to the grocery store.

Sweat pouring off us, we did a quick run into the mercifully air-conditioned grocery store for a couple of items for supper. I am making calzones for dinner, so I wanted to buy some pre-made bread dough. If you have not purchased this before, it can be found in a freezer in the bakery and it costs next to nothing. You let it rise when you get home and voila! Instant fresh bread.

Except when you have to drive in zillion-degree heat. In which case, your bag of bread dough goes POOF! and puffs up like a startled cat in the three minutes it takes to drive home.

Le sigh.

So this afternoon, it’s a couple of episodes of SuperWhy in the air conditioned comfort of Stinkerbelle’s playroom, followed by a dunk in the kiddie pool in the backyard. To be followed by more air-conditioned goodness. And poofy calzones.

And tomorrow, when it is stinking hot again, rather than get a bee in my bonnet to run off and do some stupid errands, I’m planning to do exactly nothing and leaving the day to the dogs. Or the pigs. Whatever.