July 18, 2013

I’m so glad it’s Official Short Wednesday*


It broke ninety—degrees Fahrenheit—here today.  I haven’t checked to see if my max/min thermometer has boiled its little brains out.  I’ve now got four bird feeders out there** and the most popular one is one of the suet blocks.  Blerg.  Who wants to eat suet IN THIS WEATHER?  I like heavy greasy food as well as the next person BUT NOT IN THIS WEATHER.

The Washing Machine Man came again today, despite my having inadvertently stood him up on Monday, because he is a kind, sympathetic, wonderful human being who understands that other human beings are sometimes thicker than bricks ESPECIALLY IN THIS WEATHER.***  And HE FIXED IT!!!!!  YAAAAAAAAY!  I was so sure he was going to tell me that it had lived long and prospered, and now deserves a decent burial.†  I’m not in the mood, either emotionally or financially, to buy a new washing machine.

The only blight to all this is that he came later than expected, and time had got away from me rather.  Hellhounds and I were already at Third House†† and I was sorting books to go to Oxfam and of course taking some of the ones in the ‘go’ pile back out again and you know you have to read a few pages to confirm and justify your decision . . . or not . . . and . . .

It’s been a day.  It’s been a hot day.  But I held my line through Grandsire Triples and Bob Major tonight while some other poor schmuck was losing hers.†††  And it’s still cooling off enough at night for a little catch-up hurtling, although this means my evenings are running even later than they do anyway and it’s starting to get hot again long before I’m ready to get out of bed next morning AND DO MORE WATERING.‡  Meteorologists by definition are all talking through their wellies, but the forecast is that this is going to go on for weeks. . . . I wonder if Antarctica is all booked up and if they take dogs.

* * *

* All of you lovely and charming and fabulous and adorable people on the forum who are posting guest blog suggestions . . . YES!  YES!  YES!  —Next question.  Also, generally speaking, travelogue ones are always good.  Either it’s exotic, which is cool, or if it isn’t, then it’s entertaining to the locals to see what some frelling clueless tourist has to say or has chosen to take photos of.  When I was over here as a tourist a million years ago I took photos of the phone booths and the Royal Mail vans.

** They breed.  Like coat hangers and odd socks.  And it’s worse than that because I’ve actually replaced one.  I bought a sturdy, good-quality one that is A TOTAL DROOLING RATBAG to clean, and it needs cleaning kind of often because it’s so badly designed.  Including HOW HARD IT IS TO CLEAN.  So I have this moderately expensive useless piece of rubbish which, since I was at that point inexperienced in bird feeders I bought on the hype, and recently I bought a cheap-tosh bird feeder at the farm-supply shop BECAUSE IT ALL UNSCREWS INTO ITS COMPONENT PARTS WITH NO FUSS.  Arrrrrgh.

*** I was talking to Hannah tonight and she says it was 101°F today in Manhattan!  A hundred and one!  What is this, Death Valley East?  101 is not reasonable.

† This is Third House’s washing machine^, which was already of a certain age when Vicky offered it to anyone who would haul it away because she had inherited a new one.  You know it’s old because it offers a sixty-degree temperature option.  Modern washers have gone all holy and ecological and I don’t think ordinary domestic ones ever offer more than 40° any more?

^ And the friends who are arriving this weekend with suitcases full of dirty laundry are going to be very happy.

†† Hellterror was at the cottage, snarking in her crate.  As she bears down on her first year birthday she is unmistakably showing signs of responsibility and righteousness . . . but not very many and they don’t string together well.

††† She has an excuse:  she’s been laid up with a bell-rope-antipathetic injury.  Usually she rings better than I do.  Sigh.

‡ I’ve got visitors coming this weekend, right?  I’M GOING TO HAVE TO RUN A VACUUM CLEANER.  Is there anything HOTTER on this planet, barring nuclear meltdown, than a FRELLING VACUUM CLEANER?  —Maybe they could stay at a nice B&B.


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