Summer’s three days away, but the heat’s here already.  And I’m feeling sort of like the flowers in my garden bed.  I’m drooping.  Heat makes me want to melt, to sag into a chair and not move any more than I have to.  I don’t want meals.  I think of salads and sandwiches.  I don’t want to mow or weed or even sort laundry.  But life doesn’t stop just because I’m feeling lazy.

This is a short blog, because my fingers are getting tired.  So is my brain.  I intend to enjoy the labors of others and to read what they’ve already written.  The temperatures are climbing all week and won’t dip until Sunday.  Finally, no nineties predicted.   The world can carry on without me until then.  But I know myself.   I can only relax for so long, and then I get antsy.  Chores will stockpile, ready to crush me beneath them.  I’ll push myself into work mode again.  But until then…the couch beckons.  So does a book.

5 thoughts on “Summer

  1. I finished the first Icarus Fell novel. Had mixed feelings about it. Now I’m working on a friend’s manuscript for her. When I get through that, I have 50 pages to go through for another friend, so I’m reading short stories from the Happily Ever After anthology after I mark up pages each night. My treat for being good. I loved Jim HInes’ story about Little Red Riding Hood, and Neil Gaimann’s story was thought provoking. Tonight, I get to read Patricia Briggs’ contribution. Looking forward to that.


  2. I hear you Judith, here in Eastern Europe the temperatures are about 94, 97 F we’re boiling here. The AC is constantly buzzing :). I hope your muse will be generous with you :). Kisses lovely lady.


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