It has been unconscionably hot for the past few days, so hot that I'm making use of my vintage desk fan to be comfortable enough to write this entry. It's a single speed energy gobbler that smells like burning dust and features an attractive wire guard that's more than large enough to accommodate small curious fingers reaching after the metal blade. And yet, here we all are: me, the computer and the outdated office equipment. What can I say; I like to live on the edge.
How hot is it? It's so hot that even if the wasps weren't making pests of themselves, I still wouldn't want to be in the backyard. It's so hot that on Saturday I enjoyed a visit to Bakka Phoenix more for the air conditioning than for the chance to be with My People after a week's separation. It's so hot that Mason & I slept in the basement last night, wore as little as possible, and tried not to touch, yet still were almost unable to sleep. 31 degrees in the basement is just not right. I'm getting a petition together.
The good news is that I'm blue again.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*