There will be a cold sandwich for dinner tonight, so I won't even have to turn the microwave on or fire up a burner on the range. Plus, at nine o'clock there will be English people murdering one another on one of the PBS stations I get. That means I get English murder two nights in a row, as there will be another show tomorrow night. That should partly make up for the heat. I'll merely be uncomfortable, but some English TV characters will be dead. I'll be able to meditate on how lucky I am to be a sweltering, but living, Californian rather than a dead, fictional Englishman.
On the other hand, a dead, fictional Englishman wouldn't have to listen to the screeching of these little crickets, who are now in full and abundant voice. When I go outside I don't see any of them, but judging only from the racket they are making it seems as though they'd be covering the ground like a hideous, pulsating carpet. They are another reason I'll be glad when summer is gone, and not the least of reasons. I couldn't hear them when the windows were closed and the air conditioner running, but now that the windows are open there is no escaping their presence.
But the autumnal equinox will arrive on September 22, which now is less than two weeks away. The ground is already littered with oak leaves, thanks to the excessive heat that has killed them in droves, but soon enough it will be chilly winds bringing their cohorts down. Maybe we'll get some early rains, too, to help put out all those fires. Provided the hurricanes don't have all the water.
Ah, there's just about enough time to check on the feral cats and fix my dinner before the English murders begin. Goodnight, journal.