The place has a fever. I expect it to become restless, roll over in its sleep, and dump the whole town into the canyon. Almost the only part of the lawn still somewhat green is that shaded by the mulberry tree. There, on a mossy patch near the trunk, the cat naps. She appears to be dealing with the heat better than I am. She probably doesn't think about it at all. Thinking about it is probably bad. I'm grumpy and irritable because I know there are places where I wouldn't swelter. The cat has no idea there's such a thing as a beach swept by cool breezes. The cat has no idea how much it costs to buy electricity to run the air conditioner. Knowledge is such a curse sometimes. Ah, well. It won't be a problem once I've been properly desiccated. It's unlikely that husks think.
Oh, almost dinner time. Not very hungry, but there will be beer. Mmm, beer. I feel better already.