No, it’s not the kind Irving Berlin meant*. This is hotter. Did some hot, sweaty mowing this a.m. and the temps were already—fairly early—in the mid 90s with the humidity dripping all over the place, making the air heavy long before I started dripping.
Ahhh… Lovely Daughter home again this weekend. Has a solid interview for a good job (with good recommendation from a friend and former college roomie who works at the place) on Monday afternoon… about 40 miles from home, rather than the coiuple of hundred miles away where the flake of an HR guy hired her for a job that didn’t exist…
Oh, that also means I get to drive the neat lil car we got to replace the Taurus that died on her as she was trying to get to The Job That Never Was. Fun.
Anyway, hot. I’m not gonna blog. Not gonna email. Broadband was out this a.m. anyway, when I was more likely to do some Saturday blogging. Hadda boot up an unfinished computer and hook a modem up to connect to a backup dialup connection just to see if any critical mail was in.
Nope. I’m gonna climb in some cool water, soak and read Inkheart, which Lovely Daughter thoughtfully brought home with her. So it’s a juvie? Who cares. Funk writes well, and it’ll be at least as good as the juvie (the HP book) I read last weekend.
I can do that cos I’m still running this place and you can’t make me blog. So there.
🙂
*”Heat Wave”
–Irving Berlin
We’re having a heat wave,
A tropical heat wave,
The temperature’s rising,
It isn’t surprising,
She certainly can can-can.
She started a heat wave
By letting her seat wave
In such a way that
The customers say that
She certainly can can-can.
Gee, her anatomy
Makes the mercury
Jump to ninety-three.
We’re having a heat wave,
A tropical heat wave,
The way that she moves
That thermometer proves
That she certainly can can-can