We should all look this good

I opened the door this morning to a wave of humid heat that was just waiting to attack. I hate humidity.

Of course Georgia doesn't seem to mind this weather and takes every opportunity to bake in the sun. How am I supposed to make her understand that the same thing that makes her so happy makes me so miserable... could you look this dog in the face and and get mad because she wont come back inside with you? And, to make it worse, if you try to grab her she chucks that damn squirrel at you and does a burnout only to land looking exactly the same about 5 feet from where she started. Its what makes her day complete. Its what makes her happy. Its what I need to remember every time I feel crappy.

We should all look this good = we should all be this easily pleased.