Gad, it's hot

Gad, it's hot. The heat index yesterday was a roasting 105, which is just about enough to make me cry. I was out yesterday morning mowing the lawn, dying in the broiling sun, with El Jeffe bravely following up with the weed-whacker. I then went to the dump, and burned my butt on the car seat. The wheelie-bin was so hot by the time I got there it was going soft and pliable. Even the flies at the dump were just lying there, gasping at each other.

I'm not at all acclimatized to the summers here in Virginia - I've only been in the US since March '04, and I'm used to the temperate English climate. Last summer, for instance, a friend rang me from England to tell me about the heatwave there. "It's 86 in my garden," he wailed. I scoffed indignantly, explaining that it was hotter than that at night in my garden in Virginia. He was too hot and weak to argue further, and we chatted politely (as we English are wont to do) about the weather, cricket, the weather, the Royals and the weather. I could hear him panting as he struggled to raise a cold glass of gin & tonic to his parched lips. What a pussy.

So it's 4th of July, and everyone is on vacation. Except me, it seems. I'm in the hospital, x-raying the sick, the hot, the unlucky, the clumsy. But only until 3-30. Then it's away for a quick bath, then out tonight for a slap-up meal with my brother-in-law, and then on to watch the fireworks at Yorktown Beach. That is, if I can stand the heat. Gad, it's hot.

Thought for the day - don't let your dogma get run over by your karma. Night, all.