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It's 87 degrees at 9 PM. Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter. So why did my husband invite people for ME to cook a big southern dinner. He promised them meatloaf and cornbread, which will mean heating up the oven. Fried green tomatoes and okra, which means standing over a big hot skillet. And garden fresh corn on the cob, which means a pot of boiling water pouring steam into the air.
The AC is not quite keeping ahead of the heat as it is. It's too hot to even yell at Tim. I'm gonna die tomorrow.
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