It’s 98F (36.6C) at the moment, which is 8:30 at night. Our low is supposed to be 73 F (22.7 C), which ain’t all that low, folks. Tomorrow’s high is supposed to be 110 F (43.3C). Yep. You heard that right. 110 F. But then a cool front is supposed to come through and Sunday’s high is only supposed to be 88 F (31.1 C) with a low of 64 F (17.1 C), which is good, because I’m supposed to go out to eat at lunch with mom and our friend CK. In the meantime, and tomorrow, I’m doing what any sane person ought to do, I’m staying inside out of it, drinking iced tea (heavy on the ice), in my Bubba, which I love because it is “no sweat.” The double walled construction of the stainless steel tumbler keeps the drink cold for hours and hours (I’ve had ice cubes last all day), but the outside of it is not cold enough that it causes condensation — not that there would be all that much condensation with a humidity of 19%
A while back, I plunked down for Jigsaw Planet’s downloadable software that allows you to create your own puzzles off line, and I’ve been working one I made from one of the paintings of G. C. Myers, and listening to music. That, for me, is a total chill state. . . However, earlier today, I made some chicken salad and put it in the fridge to chill, and I think I hear it calling my name . . . .