Instead of thinking, I did this:
- took Bruiser for a spritely walk.
- bought Sprite for singing son, because he had a sick stomach.
- drove to Park City to work on a syllabus with colleague.
- kvetched about work with colleague. (I have to get in practice for the regular academic year--the marathon event of kvetching about work.)
- went to lunch with colleague and talked about television and movies. And kvetched about work.
- went to the Gap outlet store where I picked up a skirt and walked around with it, spritzed myself with Grass eau de cologne which I have a nostalgic fondness for even though these days it smells like the chemical formula for "grass." Put the skirt back. Bought nothing.
- drove down the mountain to a meeting.
- went to meeting.
- kvetched about work with another colleague, after the meeting.
- drove home.
- arrived at the same time as the historian. Whined about the heat. Turned on the swamp cooler. Poured myself a tall glass of ice water.
Which brings us to now. We are preparing for an evening of crosswords and television and some dinner at some point, with possible ancillary heat-related whining (on my part--the historian does not whine. Seriously: never.). Also, many iced beverages.
Dear Weather Robot,
My husband reports to me that there's supposed to be a cold front, which he heard about on the radio while driving home. What does the term "cold front" mean, with respect to how hot it is now? And the fact that it's August? I just want some assurance that the Doppler Radar, or whatever, is correct about this, and that I will recognize it when it happens. Tell me, Weather Robot, what will the weather be like?
Today the weather is like this:
Please do note that, while the temperature is 96 degrees, it feels like a mere 91 degrees! I'm sure that, if you happen to be currently taking a cool shower, while sipping a Slurpee and thinking of Antarctica, you will concur.
On Friday, however, the weather will be like this:
77 degrees, with scattered T-storms, is cool enough that it doesn't have to feel like anything more or less than its own damn self.
Robotically yours, with hints of rain,
The Weather Robot.