So here I am in the heat, with exhausted old people who are trying to get through the torrid day without using the air conditioner so much that it sets off their neuralgia. I have a dying cat (so far she's showing no improvement I can see) hiding under a piece of heavy furniture in the living room. I have no idea what I'm going to eat for dinner (the old people having been fed soft foods appropriate to their near- toothless state but which would fill me only with nausea.) If I say any more I'll probably depress myself. This August, obviously, is not my month. But then, what August ever has been my month? Maybe there was one sometime long ago, but I don't remember it now. I wonder if the cat remembers? I wonder if she is dreaming of it? I hope she's dreaming of something pleasant, at least.