Yes, it’s an historic heatwave. We trembled at 111F for a bit yesterday; today is looking to be just as awful before a marine push brings back “regular” summer weather.
Helluva time for the sprinkler system to stop working. *sigh* At least I’ll always have New Order.
Something diurnal has been ripping out seedlings, too. I think it’s the squirrels, though what they want with a cucumber, pennyroyal, sage, and a couple other squash is beyond me. The little arboreal fucks dig the poor seedling out and leave it, and I don’t find it until the wilt has set in irreparably. If I ever catch one of them in the act there will be Hell To Pay, because gods damn it, if they just waited a bit there would be food for everyone.
I’m sure there’s some behavioral reason why they’re doing it, but it’s irritating as all get-out.
I sent off line edits for the third and last Hostage to Empire book; now that project is done except for the last round of CEs and proofs. July 4 is coming up, which means publishing will go on another one of its grind-to-a-halt holidays.
I’m in the wrong end of the profession. Writers don’t get salary or vacays, more’s the pity. And we’re creating the thing the entire industry rests upon. Go figure.
In any case, the only thing on the docket today is planning the next few months’ worth of work in finer detail, since some moving parts haven’t quite, well, moved. (At least the Cold North zero can be crossed off the list, well ahead of schedule.) I’m just irritable enough from the heat to take care of finicky details, with plenty of hydration and frequent breaks–since my office, naturally, is on the other side of the house from the bloody AC.
We have every fan out and running, too.
There’s breakfast that needs having, though one doesn’t feel much like eating under these conditions. Yesterday I worked my way through a box of prepared ice cream cones; it was the only thing I felt even remotely capable of ingesting.
Worst of all, I can’t run in this nonsense. It didn’t dip below 80F last night–and before you scoff saying, “That’s a normal summer night in MY part of the world,” just stop and don’t, because it is not normal here. Barely thirty percent of local domiciles have AC, and the unhoused are having a positively dreadful time of it too. We just don’t have the infrastructure to handle this weather.
Maybe I’ll crawl into some other werewolf story today. Or maybe I’ll just move slowly through the scheduling process, taking several breaks to swear, and finish by flopping on the couch as soon as possible, turning into a puddle until the temperature goes down a bit and I can re-congeal.
Either way, it’s going to be a Monday. Ugh. I feel like some part of me is stuck back in 2020. Time has lost all meaning, and so has everything other than lying in front of a fan with a spray bottle.
Stay cool out there, beloveds. Mask up, hydrate, wash your hands, get your vaccine if you can. We’re still in the thick of it.
Over and out.