Somebody turn the heat down . . . Please.



Ever have one of those weeks where there isn’t much to say? Where nothing much happens and what does happen seems shallow enough that the effort to think about it is too much?

Where the hot weather keeps on popping the sweat and the warm nights keep on stealing dreams of solid sleep.

Where neighbors are barely nodding hello to each other and no one seems capable of long conversations outside when their air conditioning is pumping away inside.

I finally get what they mean by the hazy days of summer. I always thought it referred to the dry dusty days of continuous sun, but now I know they were referring to our heat-fried, snooze-less brains.

Plus there’s the fact that an unusual heat wave makes everything and everyone slow down which means:

  • Any job is going to take twice as long to do
  • Or, because it’s going to take longer, it will be shoved aside for ‘later’
  • Or, in a heat-fractured dither, it’s forgotten completely.

Bad news for those of us serious readers because, as any reader knows, the minute you pick up a book and start reading, the not-done, the half-way-done, and the ‘push off ’til later’ tasks will squeeze themselves right between the sentences on each page, crying out for attention.

And that, as any heat-suffering reader knows, means putting the book down to take a nap—a necessary step in building enough energy to attack the annoying cloying tasks.

But then, as one surfaces from their thick, sweaty, close-to-coma-like mid-day nap session, the reason for taking it has vanished—evaporated in the humidity.

So one picks the book back up only to . . .  well . . . it’s just a vicious hot cycle.

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So, don’t let anyone kid you—summertime isn’t all play and holidays.

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