It must be because of the quiet, cozy, slice-of-life blogs I’ve been reading. I get lost in reading about cups of tea, cool mornings, comfy sweaters, and then look up it’s and blinding sunlight and nearly 100F. Maybe I belong in the Pacific Northwest. I wouldn’t be able to take the muggy, sticky summers of New England anymore: 3 decades of life in the high desert southwest has me feeling that 25% is high humidity. *snort*
BTW, that whole “it’s a dry heat” thing? Hot is hot. Believe me. And honestly, as uncomfortable as 100F is here, 90F in NE with 100% humidity is brutal. Suffocating, even.
I had so many things to do today, and instead I feel as if there isn’t a drop of energy anywhere in my body. I sent my sister light for her birthday, and that perked me up for a while. Days like this make me wonder how I’m going to do back in the workforce – a necessity that I continue to block out on one level, acting as if Tuesday won’t come. Instead I keep adding up in my head how many clients it would take for me to be able to stay home, and then getting sad again.
The cat has decided that she needs to be fed 3x a day, a decision I vehemently disagree with, especially since I’d been feeding her dry food for a while and it always makes her gain weight. She loves Fancy Feast (the wheat-free ones) so much that she’d happily eat a can every few hours. Ain’t happening. So now she perches on the small table and stares at me, hoping that will guilt me into feeding her. Nope.
My Dry July partner didn’t even make it a day, so that’s a blow. I’ll have to be that much more determined, and more of anything but rest is not something for which I have spoons or bandwidth. So very, very many forks and not a spoon in sight.
And now it’s time to figure out dinner. Ramen, anyone?
With hope and love,
©Pip Miller – July 2022