hot hot heat

My body doesn't want to stick to the proper timing and bleed to show me that all is fine and no alien being has invaded my belly. While I see the latter highly improbable, it still sends the occasional butterflies up my stomach. I really don't want my uterus to ruin Durex' PR, so maybe it's just a reaction to the amount of blood already donated a month ago or a cry that, fed as it is now, my body feels quite undernourished. I don't have the nerves to buy a pregnancy test and don't want to visit my gynaecologist this month again. Well, whatever. With this heat I can only think properly at work (which even makes me cool with the occasional late hours). Melting it the heat I: scratch my lovely car, get fined for parking the car on a pedestrian crossing (and then fortunately forgiven by an equally dazed city guard), every now and then say yes to the occasional social cig at work, dream of leaving for Crete and so travel with my finger on the map, cut my fringe with dull scissors (asymetrical sounds too nice for the results) and - as for now - dye my hair brown. Cause after all maybe it was not the heat but my being too blonde...