Hotter than hell sweatier than satans jock strap.

I have “commandeered” some fans from work that only have a moderate chance of bursting into flames. Thus defeating the object of them really. But short of putting myself in the fridge I really dint know what to do. My house was obviously designed by thermos. When its cold there’s ice in my house and its actually warmer outside. When it’s hot my house leaches all the heat from the world and stores it inside. Yah I live in a flask.

Well im arranging these fans to mainly point at my side of the sofa. And not the wife’s but make it look like they are mainly pointing at her. She come home and says the cat looks hot.

“The cat looks hot” (she I told you she said that)
“na babe hes fine…. Help me aim these fans at my cods”
she flicks me some disapproving look…. The one I get 90% of the day. “I think wee should bath him to cool him down”

at this point I have a flashback ‘nam stile to the horror before

the was no getting around it she was going to dunk the cat. And I had to be there to make the cat think it was my doing. So any reparations would be down to me.
5 mins later I was standing with a soggy cat and my blood on the wrong side of my skin