Hotter than a Matchhead

Paralyzingly humid yesterday. Today too. Brain zappingly hot as well though I feel guilty for saying so. My Phoenix friends are being subjected to 107º while I’m here withering in 85º.

What can I say in my defense beyond I’m a New Englander. We do snow not heat.

The cats are concerned. Both Rocco and Coco came to our bedroom door this morning (cracked so they can come in and join us in the not-nearly-as-Arctic-impersonating-as-I’d-like AC yet they never do). The two of them sat there together (unheard of! a first!) and stared in at The Amazing Bob and I.

I’m sure they were wondering if we, their oh so delicate, pansy-ish parents, were OK. Undoubtedly they snidely added to each We’ve got fur coats and we’re fine. They’re mostly bald and look at them! Good thing they’re not cats, those wimps. Also too, we need some treats. Now. STAT!

And then they went back to flopping on the kitchen floor linoleum and sitting in the windows, catching stray breezes as they stood guard over Valhalla.

My plan for after work today? I’m gonna float—in the front yard versus my own sweat. It’s gonna be lovely and a half and I can’t wait!

Summer in the City—Lovin Spoonful

Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city

All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head