The Summer that simply would not fuck off.
My house is over 100 years old. The windows, and their frames, are the same age. When opening, I have to hold the window, that wants to come down like a fucking guillotine, aloft so I can wedge one of those sliding screens in it. Closing is just another side of the fuckery. Several weeks ago when the temperature dropped and the rains looked like they were starting in, I closed said windows and lugged the fans down to the basement. Like a short sighted idiot. Now: it's going to be nearly 90 tomorrow, and high 80s until Thursday. C'mon!It was a nice weekend. Saturday rained most of the day, which was perfect, as I had a lot of schlepping to do, reworking the dining area, which I've decided was more decorative than functional and now have it set up so that's where I write. In between dragging around large unwieldy furntiure from the 30s and cleaning, I would throw myself periodically on the couch and read yet another Sookie Stackhouse book. I'm going to have to cut the empty calories of these novels with some fiber, after I've finished the last one. It might be a good time to finally hit Moby Dick.