When The Hell Did This Happen?

The weather forecast for today is hot. Maybe not hot for everyone who reads this blog, but pretty damn toasty for Western Washington; supposed to be close to 90.

I'm already miserable and it's still in the mid 70s. I'm contemplating actually putting my shoes on and looking like a dork, because if I don't, by the end of the work day, my feet will be huge (like Fred Flintstone huge). Couple that with that fact that I've had to wear a carpal tunnel brace on my right wrist since the painting (which really hurt me), I'm feeling old, decrepit, and cranky.

When did this happen? When did I stop being the girl who, having lived in Maryland for 8 years (and many years in the hot, sticky Midwest), scoffed at the heat? When did I get to be the girl whose feet swell up at the end of a hot day when I've been sitting a lot?

I actually know the answer to the second part; it was on the drive out here. After day 2, in which we drove from Ohio to Minnesota, my feet were huge, and now it happens on hot days pretty routinely.

My grandmother was right, "it's hell growing old." I'm only 43; this blows.