I have finished reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which means that my allotted 24 hours of total uselessness is finally over.  Well, not quite, because I’m here, aren’t I?  I swear I was going to fold that laundry that’s been piling up in my living room all week, but the kids started screaming at each other, and I thought, eh, screw it, it’s too hot to fold laundry anyway.

Hot and humid, actually, because we had thundershowers last night.  Impressive ones, too.  I almost could have sworn that God really was bowling in heaven, and He was just getting strike after strike.  We were overdue for some rain–it’s been getting up in the 90’s this week, which is just unbearable for anyone who’s lived in
Oregon for more than a few months.  I remember that in
California, if it dipped below 70 we’d start putting on sweaters.  Now 70 is about as warm as I like it.  I still have vivid memories of taking Princess Zurg to the park at 7 a.m. because by 9 it felt like we were being roasted alive.  Here the morning dew doesn’t burn off until 2:30 in the afternoon.  It’s really remarkable.

Speaking of heat and a surplus thereof, Sugar Daddy heads for
Arizona next week, right after my ultrasound.  He’s been anticipating this trip for weeks and driving me crazy in the process.  I haven’t been able to plan anything because he kept saying, “I could be called off to
Arizona that week.  I could be called at any minute.  No one knows yet when exactly it will be.”  Well, now that we only have the Second Coming hanging over our heads, I am finally able to write some things down in ink.  I’m glad I kept the ultrasound appointment where it was because I really didn’t want to schedule it for October, when he finally closes the door on this project that causes him to fly to various destinations at the drop of a hat.  So in
Phoenix it has been in the 100’s–115, I think, the other day.  I’m hoping it keeps up so that SD will be disabused of any fantasy he has of someday moving there.

The one upside of living in
Arizona, of course, is that we wouldn’t be on this infernal Daylight Savings Time.  DST is all well and good, of course, when you don’t have children you want to put to bed three hours before the sun is scheduled to go down.  Okay, two hours.  It gets dark at around 10, but it starts getting light again at 4 a.m., which doesn’t encourage sleeping in, either.  I won’t complain, though, because it isn’t 115 degrees here any day of the year.

Now that I’ve counted my blessings, it’s time to fold some laundry.