Hot Hot Hot
Temperature has been rising around here, into the high nineties and possibly beyond. I foresee writing and reading at a cool, air-conditioned coffee shop tomorrow. The apartment is so hot the cats have become lackadaisical, sprawling on the cool linoleum or laying on their backs on the bed as if they were human. They get water and darkened windows. At least it's somewhat cooler inside than it is out.
Anyhoo, I need to get moving on the next story. One day off led to another. Let me point out this blog entry from writer Tate Hallaway about the habit of writing. I'm always better off if I write every day because inertia sets in fast. One good thing about getting older is that one finally learns things about self and accepts them.