Hot Child in the City

“Hot child in the city
Hot child in the city
Runnin' wild and lookin' pretty
Yeah"

"Hot child in the city"

"Come on down to my place, baby
We'll talk about love
Come on down to my place, woman
We'll make love!"

"Hot child in the city
Hot child in the city"

"She's kinda dangerous"
"Hot child in the city”

It has just been a scorcher of a week (and, everywhere else, I hear)! I’ve had the top down on the convertible on the way in to work everyday and then it’s promptly put up and never let down again until the next morning because it’s so hot. Riding around in a convertible is not all it’s cracked up to be when it’s over 90 degrees outside. It makes one feel like this:

Because of the hot days we’ve had lately it has caused me to fantasize about the beach, swimming in a pool – hell, (and feeling like we’re at the gates of) even a tepid Chattahoochee river would do! Two of my friends are heading off to the beach this weekend for a weeklong stay in a house with a bunch of other friends. I am so envious of them right now I am totally hating.. well, that's a strong word - maybe just hoping a period starts or there's some sand chafing..

But, I was invited to go. Because I have just started a new job I felt it would be pushing it to ask for a week off only 4 months after my date of hire. (Yeah, that would look bad) In fact, I have had so many invitations to go to the beach since I started this job I could scream!

In the past when I was with the government and had a month off a year I would have been down there every time I was asked – I love the beach so much. But, career choices and income often take the place of my beach time these days. Because of the many invites and not being able to make the beach this year until the wedding in August, I often fantasize about selling my house, leaving this city and relocating somewhere close to a beach, ocean, hell (not there) any old body of water at this point would do. It’s thoughts like this that cause me to wonder would the quality of my life be better? Or would I have sold everything to pin it all on a dream that turned out not to be all that was cracked up to be.

If I had it everyday would I want it then?

That is the question. For now I stare out my office window (at least I have an office with a window) and look at my convertible burning up in the hot afternoon sun.