Call it global warming. Call it karma. Call it what you will—but this season has been nothing short of a Summer of Roasting.
And not the fun kind with marshmallows. More like…
Boom—ROASTED!
Yes, The Office reference is alive and well here (you’re welcome). But truly, life has turned my summer into a personal comedy roast—and I was the unwilling guest of honor. If I’ve taught you nothing over the years, it’s that my Lauren’s Law brand is 90% poking fun at myself. So, here goes.
I’ve been serving up 11th place ribbon energy all summer. You know, just enough effort to show up, but not enough to win. Why 11th place? My husband found a giant ribbon from my childhood swim meet and has been roasting me for it ever since. Anytime I mention I used to have records at our community pool or that I played D1 lacrosse, he raises his Eugene Levy-style eyebrows that I love and reminds me that once upon a time I came in 11th place.
My two-year-old daughter has also gotten in on the roasting. While at our weekly storytime, she loudly announces that my “legs are scratchy!” Kiddo, you try keeping up with daily shaving + mom/work duties. She doesn’t hear me calling her a sweaty meatball when she’s covered in sweat by 8 AM. I do what all women do—say it (or write it) behind her back.
Technology Joins the Roast
Even my AC unit joined in literally roasting me—sputtering hot air at me like a Hot Yoga class. It’ll shock no one that appliances are NOT my domain. Grocery shopping, laundry, bug killing, asking for a favor? Sure! I’m your girl. Navigating a hotter than Hades home? Nope—it’s the domain of my husband and handyman extraordinaire.
Naturally, our AC stopped working on a Friday evening after a hot trip to the carnival with three sweaty little meatballs (translation: my three young daughters). My husband was leaving town the next day for a rare trip. God bless my dad who lives nearby and came to help translate HVAC speak while my hubby was gone.
We got a Band-Aid fix while we worked on getting a new AC unit. That Band-Aid ripped off most naptimes and after a hot week of summer camp for the girls (again on a Friday night for full Groundhog Day vibes).
Another time, my dad borrowed my car for one hour to take my daughters to the library. The car now beeps at me like my heart is flatlining in a medical drama. Honestly, my ADHD brain kind of appreciates the constant reminder now. It has probably saved me from driving over our bushes along our driveway for the third time this year.
Lastly, on the tech front my iPod Nano died on me after many years. They don’t make them anymore but it didn’t stop me from asking Apple Support and Mac Medics if it could be fixed. Spoiler: it can’t. All you need to know about me, you can decipher from these images below. Late to every tech party. Stubborn. I have a bid into eBay for a replacement. I am my mother’s daughter—she still balances a checkbook.
The Drink Situation
My oldest daughter’s new back to school water bottle took longer to pick out than the time she actually used it. A klutz at my core—a real-life Flustered Mustard, if you will—I dropped it while juggling a zillion bags, snacks, and trash while exiting my car. Down went the new water bottle, and with it many hours of my life I’ll never get back searching for a new Mermaid-themed vessel.
Oh, and Dr Pepper? Exploded everywhere in my garage and on my car. Not a beep—er peep, I mean—from the car at that. The spill immediately transported me back to that time I dropped an entire case of Dr Pepper at Safeway. The checkout aisle has never been the same.
So there you have it — the Summer of Roasting: where the heat’s not just from the sun, the burns aren’t just from UV rays, and even my appliances have jokes.
Lauren's Law 