I think I’ve given up odd thoughts and every kind of thought until the temperature drops.  Well I haven’t given up murderous angry thoughts — but I’m  not the murderous angry type — so I just bitch about things.  High temperatures is one of the things I bitch about the most.

I’m a heat wimp — I can’t think in the heat, can’t work in the heat, can’t do anything in the heat.  Well, not true — I can bitch in the heat.

I live in a very old mobile home  and I don’t mind how old and run down it is — it’s perfect for hubby, me and my menagerie of animals.  But it has a swamp cooler — and while back in 1973 when the desert was hot & dry it might have been a wondrous invention — it is no longer.  We are way more humid than we used to be.

This evening for instance it is 84 degrees outside and inside it’s 88 degrees.  The desk is warm to the touch.  I have no windows which cross ventilate with each other, but the windows I do have are open in hopes it will cool down before bedtime.

Next year there will be window air-conditioners or I’ll have to find a summer home.  And I’d miss my husband and my pets, but I doubt they’d miss all my bitching.