It is not a pretty image: that of a beached whale. But we do not have air conditioning and today was the third day of a heat advisory. Torment is the most I could commit to these past few days. Seriously, this is weather only Sylvia Plath would love because it just couldn’t make her any more suicidal!
I didn’t even feel human through most of it but imagined myself literally a wilting flower, occasionally hit by a blast of indifferent and slightly warm air from my little fan.
After a mighty thunderstorm, the temperatures lifted a bit and I was able to get back to the new cookbook. It is awfully hard to write about food when you don’t want any. It’s even harder to write about deep frying when it is over 100-degrees!
Other than that, the only work I did in the last few days was a note about monkeys in the steampunk novel. (I grin devilishly as I leave that sentence hanging and not explain it further.)
I tried to read, but in my delirious state I am not sure how much of it I retained.
Now, I will go back and try to jot down another recipe before the heat returns and paralyzes all the action.