I forgot to make iced tea again, so I'm drinking beer instead. It's Sierra Nevada's Summerfest, a nice, piss-colored lager that's only available this time of year. Most of the year I only drink their porter, which is so dense that it qualifies as a separate course at dinner. The Summerfest is much lighter, and has a nice, tangy flavor suitable to the season. It's one of the few beers I'm willing to drink by itself. The beer's local popularity, and the fact that the brewery is only a dozen miles away guarantees freshness, too, and it's about two bucks a six pack cheaper here than it is anywhere farther away. Despite all this, and the fact that I'm enjoying it, I wish I'd remembered to make the iced tea.
No relief from the heat is in sight. Summer looms ahead like a perilous desert that must be crossed. Enraptured, I'm bound to follow a misleading path to some mirage and end up being swallowed by quicksand. I'd rather be sailing. Better to be lured by a siren's song and crash on the rocks than to suffocate in a dessicated symbol of passing time.
In the last hour, everyone in the house has sustained multiple mosquito bites. I expect that West Nile Virus will kill us all now. Maybe I ought to finish off that six pack before the symptoms set in.