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Dearest diary, I write from the depths of the Arctic, bones pinched by frost, swaddled in layer upon useless layer.

With ‘lo these many months to go, the outlook is bleak . . . unless Mr. Bag Lady and I can agree on a &#@%! air conditioner setting.

So that’s been my June.

I’m freezing (a decidedly bad thing). Yet also purposely freezing my peanut butter cups (a decidedly good thing).

And I’m learning the most random British slang and fascinating facts about sexually transmitted diseases on a super trashy new-to-the-Bag-House reality TV show that I’m forcing Mr. Bag Lady to watch with me because, hey, that’s the price for keeping this place 54-&#@%!-degrees.

Come along, don’t pie me off.

YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, RIGHT?

So after recently subscribing to Hulu and poking around its offerings, Bag Lady stumbled on Season 1 of “Love Island”‘s UK version.

Think “Survivor” with chain smokers in smaller swimsuits, and instead of an actual island, it’s a fabulous villa, with people regularly voted off, hotter hotties regularly added and a prize for the last couple standing.

It’s something like six weeks in real time and 34 episodes, so you get a lot of I’m-dating-her-today/can-you-believe-what-he-said drama and delightful English slang like being “pied off” or “mugged off” (to be slighted or ditched; “pied off” apparently having hit in the face with a cream pie origins. I mean, naturally.)

The show’s rancid and easy-breezy summer addictive. (Please don’t tell me who wins, but if Jon and Hannah don’t, it’s a travesty.)

Oh! Also, eye chlamydia is a thing, which, wow. The more you know.

ALSO A TRAVESTY

The rate at which I’ve started eating Reese’s peanut butter cups. Bag Lady has started purposely storing them in the freezer so any snacking has to be very intentional and thought-out lest I crack a tooth on a frozen, jagged chocolatey edge.

I’ve abandoned my daily Hannaford butter rum muffin habit, but not entirely by my own choice: After writing about their pure, sweet perfection in April, on my next trip to the grocery store they were entirely sold out. Gone. Fini. Only a sea of corn muffins left, which, sorry, corn muffins, I don’t like you that way.

It’s exactly why I didn’t share the location of my newly restocked Cains tarter sauce stash.

IN HONOR OF SUMMER AND FABULOUS VILLAS

The three most “Love Island” UK-inspired suits you can find with curbside pickup at the Auburn Mall JCPenney’s right now:

• Mynah geometric high neck bikini swimsuit top, $34.99 on sale

Black and white with full coverage but for the demure peep holes running down the center.

• Mynah cheetah tankini swimsuit top, $31.99 on sale

Cheetah-print tank that sits at the waist, full coverage but for the massive cleavage cutout.

• Miken womens chevron dress swimsuit cover-up, $28.99 on sale

A sweet chevron pattern with cap sleeves, cinched just below the bust with just slightly more coverage than plastic wrap. You’d fit right in on the island.

MEANWHILE . . .

Dearest diary, I type this while shivering in the dark, the blinds drawn so as “not to let the daytime heat in” and “what’s the big deal anyway?” I hope to make it to September with all of my fingers and toes having escaped the ravages of frostbite. If I do, I’m making him watch Seasons 2 AND 3.

xoxo

Bag Lady’s true identity is protected by a pair of stylish, sweater-wearing Doberman pinschers (whose thick wool tunics protect them from the worst of the air conditioning) and the customer service counter at the Sun Journal. You can reach her at baglady@sunjournal.com.