And the heatwave is finally over. I grew up on a lake, so I'm used to both heat and humidity, but the last few days were really bad. Our Bold Hero — known to drape quilts over himself in August — had to requisition a fan so he could sleep at night. Sleeping with a fan is very strange.

Lesson learned: heatwaves are expensive, if your solution is to eat out instead of cooking and you feel guilty getting just an appetizer. (At home, using the oven in the summer is up there with premeditated murder.)

We ate at the Chatterbox one night, that's always more expensive than I anticipate. I like the idea of a restaurant where you can also rent and play videogames while you eat, but the place still feels like a glorified Perkins.

Worse than a heatwave: a heatwave and an eight-hour power outage. That was Monday. It was really lame.

Oh, and Markie's b-day was in there somewhere. I gave her the gift of designated driving, which essentially made me an accomplice to Barry's attempts to get her very very drunk. Personally, I feel like that kind of b-day is behind me now that I'm however old.