Mid-afternoon. Dogs napping on the tile floor. Finished a can of Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray. Took a break from editing latest project. Walked past the thermostat:
Not sure if the air temperature really is 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Looks suspicious. Raised eyebrow. So — rinsed the empty can of Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray, left it in the sink to drain, and walked past the thermostat again:
Well, that was apparently bogus.
Then, in a matter of seconds — mere seconds — the thermostat registered eight less degrees. I saw it with my own eyeballs. No photograph of that; I don’t want to put you, my readers, into a whirly spin. Believe me. Today’s world is too nuts as it is.
It’s just too, too much–
One hundred degrees.
One hundred four degrees.
That’s Fahrenheit, Baby.
Up and up and down. And so goes the thermometer.
Truthfully, though it was hot, hot, hot today, I don’t think the 104 degrees Fahrenheit was legitimate.
Sure, maybe for a hot second it was, but not in the grand scheme of the afternoon.
A hot breeze — a diablo wind — could have boosted that temperature momentarily.
But, what do I care? Baby, it’s hot outside.
And I’m inside, working up a sweat working on a big editing project.
(c)Susan Marie Molloy, and all works within.