It’s gonna be hot today.
It’s already warm, but the sky is felted with humidity, and that’s the sign of a scorcher. It’s a day to sit out on the veranda with a mint julep in hand and a pitcher of sweet tea on the table (if we are being appropriately Southern) or to take cool showers and eat root beer popsicles (if we’re bein’ me.)
Eventually I’ll break, close up the windows, and turn the AC on. My neighbors have already succumbed. But I like to stave it off as long as possible, because the air outside is full of bird calls, and smells like plants and sun and freshly mown grass, instead of the human-cat-cooking-heating-duct-air-freshener smell that most apartments acquire.
I have too much to do, and very little of it I can proceed with without word from various parties, so I am hovering over my e-mail (not good for one’s sanity) and trying to hammer out the things I CAN do…CD’s to burn, prints to print, etc, etc. Without final confirmation on my trip to LA, I am caught in the anxious state of not knowing whether to be in panic mode or not, or when my panic deadline is supposed to be. Stressful stuff, all around.