It's hot but at least cold showers exist

😔😭💔🥵

I was off work for ten consecutive days at the end of June, which means my summer vacation is already over. It’s done – gone – buckle up buttercup – heigh ho heigh ho, it’s off to work I go – sad face emoji – crying face emoji – broken heart emoji – red sweaty face with a tongue sticking out emoji.

I’m not that broken hearted though, because I like the income and I thrive on routine. I must clarify that “routine” isn’t a synonym for “work schedule.” I had an excellent routine as a stay-at-home mom (which is also work, except your boss asks for snacks every 15 minutes and you don’t receive any money for your loyal services).

The kind of routine I’m referring to is the one where I go to bed at a decent time (9:30 PM), wake up no later than 7 AM, have regular meals at regular intervals, exercise, spend time with my family, spend time with myself, tend to my creative needs and watch TV (that’s success to me). The full-time job is the semi-new thing in my life that has become part of my routine. It gnaws at the time I have for those other essentials, but I do my best to prioritize them as much as possible.

For my vacation this year, I relived the summers of my childhood. This basically means hanging around the house and riding in a car with no A/C. It was 46°C last week in Montreal (yikes global warming – sad face emoji – crying face emoji – broken heart emoji – red sweaty face with a tongue sticking out emoji). It was never that hot back in 1996. My current car, a lovely second-hand station wagon with a mind of its own, decided it didn’t need to provide air conditioning to its passengers anymore. One car ride was especially awful. My husband, son and I attended a friend’s Saint-Jean-Baptiste BBQ on the South Shore. Our friend also had a pool (thank god), and I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to eat hot dogs in my swimsuit in someone’s suburban backyard (another childhood summer activity).

The ride home was the longest forty minutes of my life, except for the time I asked for an epidural during labour ten years ago. When you’re on the brink of fainting and throwing up from the pain of contractions, and you decide you no longer want to prove that you’re a natural birth earth mama goddess who can push a baby out in a stoic and peaceful manner – Clint Eastwood style¹ – an epidural becomes your lifeline. You want the drugs. You’re begging for someone, anyone, to stick a needle into your spine.

We were cooking in that car. We were stuck in traffic. I kept glancing at my kid, who was giving the Wicked Witch of the West after Dorothy threw a bucket of water on her face. We wanted the equivalent of someone sticking a needle in our spine. We made it home to the safety of our apartment A/C, our underwear drenched in sweat. We each took a cold shower (childhood summer activity), threw on some pjs at 3 PM and watched TV for the rest of the day. Pure bliss.

The summers of my childhood were simple. We didn’t take trips. We went to the neighbourhood wading pool. Ate popsicles in the backyard. Went for drives. Took cold showers. Watched some good TV (Xena: Warrior Princess). Simple pleasures are the best. They don’t cost much but somehow they’re so enriching. We tend to take the little things for granted, but they’re the ones that spark the most joy.

Someone get me another hot dog and invite to a friend’s pool! That’s the beauty of being alive (paired with a good routine, lol). Oh, and $490 later, the car A/C has been fixed! #blessed

Talk to you soon.

1. A “Clint Eastwood” is a drinking game where you take a shot without wincing. It is also a reference to Clint Eastwood the actor’s emotionless facial expressions.