There are 2 small desk-top fans in my house. No ceiling fans. Broken central air conditioning unit. And there is no air conditioning in my truck. (Well, there was... it's broken too.)
Just like my cell phone's broken. And my laptop. If I had a dog, he'd be dead. Run over by a lonesome train with a blowing whistle. (But, hey. My house got painted. And we went to New York. Priorities, people.)
I'm warm.
I'm OK with the weather. It's just that I'd rather be sitting on a lawnchair IN THE LAKE reading a book when it's over 100 degrees out. That's all.
A person shouldn't be baking cakes, pulling weeds out of the crack in the concrete between her gutter and the road or doing laundry.
Earlier this evening, Drew sat on the tile floor in the kitchen with the fridge and freezer doors open, breathing in frosty air. Man, kids are expensive.
Max lay very still on the trampoline in his boxers.
I put photos in photo albums. Go me! Getting stuff done.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Watermelon. Max, Drew and I ate a whole one in 2 minutes.
2. Doctors and antibiotics. Clint has infected sinuses and tonsils and is quarantined for 3 days with a SARS mask. Sucks to be sick in a foreign country. Hoping his fever has broken. Updates from Brazil are sporadic.
3. Fans that push the hot air around. Somehow, just the movement of air makes the heat bearable.
Shalom,
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