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.