It's not so much that it's hot, but that there's absolutely no reprieve from the hot. It's hot at midnight. It's hot in the shade. It's hot in the rain, which, by the way, doesn't happen here anymore.
I started thinking about the heat (as if I ever stopped) when I noticed that even the most steadfast blogs I read are getting sketchier with their posting. That's not a criticism, mind you, as I have absolutely no room to talk, but an observation. I wonder if others are experiencing the same mental lag I am. I can only deduce that it has something to do with the heat. That is, I would deduce that, if I were able to deduce anything through the haze of puddling, thumb-sucking bald sun piercing brick and concrete, unchallenged by our meager ducts and vents.
Honestly, I feel stupid. I feel tired and slow and I can't form sentences or add numbers. It takes me forever to come up with clever descriptors, like "pretty" and "blue." Don't even ask me to splel anytheng for u.
1 comment:
it is so hot that Roxy, after sneaking in the house when i walk in, fights me about going back outside even when i give her awesome treats like half a homemade calzone. she's all, "NOOOOoooo! don't make me! please lemme stay! i'll be good! i'll lay right here. see?! i can lay down. here. on the cold kitchen floor. Paula Deen let's her dogs stay in the kitchen!"
Post a Comment