NINETY-FIVE DEGREES in the shade of the back porch, at 7:00 in the morning! Hoooleeeee shee-ut! How hot IS it supposed to get today?
Hmmm…. Saith Wunderground: 108 degrees, with 23% humidity.
Dog and Human are just back from our morning stroll — around the park and through the hood, the air so thick you could swim through it. Yea, verily: it’s mighty hot and sticky out there.
Ohhhh well: at least we’re exercised. After a fashion.
What new horrors are on the calendar? Checking…
Hmmmm… Doesn’t look like anything. One can only hope…
What I am hoping is that my son doesn’t have one of the housekeeper/babysitters slated to descend on me this morning. What a NUISANCE those women are!
Not through any fault of their own. It’s my eccentricity that creates the problem. I strongly prefer my aloneness. I really, really don’t like people underfoot. And especially not strangers. Not hired help.
Oh, well. If one of the poor dears shows up, I’ll make her drive me to the Sprouts and the Albertson’s. That’ll soak up the better part of her morning, anyway. Then maybe I can pretend to take a nap, which will extract an hour or two of relative privacy.
At any rate, at least the little dawg is exercised, and we got out before the pavement could burn her feet. If there’s any question in your mind about whether this place is a precinct of Hell, all you need to do to resolve that question is to visit in June, July, or August.
I could brain my father for dragging us here when he retired. Too late, though: his brains have been reduced to a pile of ashes. 😀
Seriously, I assumed that we would stay in San Francisco, near my mother’s relatives. Or at least in Southern California, where my parents had lived before we decamped to Saudi Arabia.
Jayzuz! TEN YEARS in that Middle-Eastern Hell-Hole. Can you imagine?
Actually, for my mother and me it was a mere nine years. Toward the end of his planned sojourn out there, she came down with amoebic dysentery. Almost died from it. But she did recover, at which point her doctors told my parents that she needed to get out of Arabia and come back to the States, where she could get better medical care and get away from the endemic parasites.
So, to his infinite disgust, my father had to quit the job that he figured would support him into early retirement. He sent my mother and me to San Francisco (where surviving members of her family lived); stayed in Arabia until the end of his contract (another nine months); and then got a first mate’s job shipping out of the East Bay.
Poor guy! All his plans went down the toilet. He’d figured to spend another year or two in Hell, and then retire — that’s how much Americans got paid out there. But alas, ’twas not to be!
Thank Gawd, from my mother’s and my point of view…
Anyway…the air here is not as soggy this morning as it used to be by dawn’s early light in Araby. But by comparison with what’s normal here, it’s darned sticky!