I’m behind closed doors again. The AC is blasting, doing its best to cut through humidity so thick you can see droplets in the air. The morning is dark, closed in by the clouds. Not a single oak tree leaf is moving in the thick air. The forecast is for rain today and tomorrow.

My downstairs bathroom has a theme, school days. A small old desk holds hand towels, an open folding blackboard has old rulers and Ding Dong School artifacts. I never looked when I was told to leave the room so I still wonder what Miss Francis told my mother. There are school books in the desk and school pictures from way back. The long black and white picture over the sink is my eighth grade class picture. We are dressed in our graduation finest. Those were the days of puffy dresses. I barely recognize myself.

Henry notified me that someone was outside. When I opened the door, I saw three boxes. The smallest box was for Henry, his chews. He’s already chomping on one. The other two boxes were my fruits and vegetables: limes, avocados, 2 ears of corn, pea pods, a yellow pepper, tomatoes, and I forget what else. I’m set until the next delivery.

Yesterday I went to the dump. My car was loaded. After that I was going to do a bit of shopping, but I decided to go home. I don’t generally go out for long, but I will tomorrow. I’m taking my car in for servicing so I’ll have to sit there wearing my mask and avoiding people.

Henry has a vet’s appointment for a check-up, lime test and some shots. It scares me. Henry hates the car so when I go to the vet’s I have to stand in front of the back car door blocking him from escaping. Now, I can’t go in with Henry. They come and get him. I have told them of my fears. They said they’d make a note of it. I hope a note’s enough. I do have a halter for him, but he’s not a fan. He chewed through three of them. Maybe I’ll get lucky with number four if I can get it on him.

My sister wants current Henry pictures. I tried this morning. When Henry saw my phone, he ran upstairs. When he came down, he stayed in the hall staring at me. I put my phone away. He came back into the den. Henry is a peculiar dog with all sorts of fears. Some are allayed by medication and familiarity. Henry’s tail is responsible for scaring him. It’s a big tail. Sometimes when he wags it, the tail hits stuff which falls. The other day it was an old, metal noise maker. Henry ran so fast he slid across the floor. I’d say poor Henry, but he has me.

Today is getting warmer, and I can feel the humidity. The high will be 88˚. Summer continues.

Henry and Jack drive me crazy. Jack sleeps on the table when I’m trying to read the papers. Henry wants my total attention. We went on the deck earlier and played tag, Henry’s favorite game. He runs up one set of stairs and goes down the other. He does that a few times then wants in, playtime over. Henry is now upstairs on my bed taking his morning nap. Jack is also upstairs taking his nap. As for Gwen, she’s always upstairs.

Today I am busy but not happy busy. It is dump day. My car is filled, and I have a couple of trash bags yet to be crammed into the trunk. I also need to check the fridge before I go. I think I saw some suspect lettuce.

When I was a kid, I stayed up as long as I could to find the election results for the Kennedy-Nixon race. I remember lying in bed watching the flickering black and white TV. Huntley and Brinkley were my newscasters of choice, but they didn’t call the race until the next morning. I went to bed hoping.

My house is getting less cluttered. Yesterday I slid the giant cardboard box out of the living room. It was driving me crazy. I slid the box to the deck. It was easy sliding it through the house. The next hurtle is to put the deck box together, but I’ll save that for another day when I truly have absolutely nothing else to do.

I collect cookbooks. My favorites are the literary cookbooks, the ones from novels. One year I had a splendid feast for my friends. All the recipes came from those cookbooks. I laminated pages from an old cook book destined for the dump. Those were the placemats. I put books on the table as trivets. I wrote out some famous quotes for a guessing game of who said it. The whole feast was such great fun.

I can’t remember the last time, other than delivery, I had an evening meal. Mostly I just graze. Sometimes I have a hunk of cheese and a few crackers. For a couple of meals I had hummus and pita bread until the pita bread was gone. The other night I had hot dogs, my most complex meal in a while. I do have a freezer full, but that would mean cooking something.

Here I am. I survived yesterday. The deck box is still in the living room, but I close my eyes when I go by it so it isn’t there. My friend Bill suggested I bring the box one piece at a time to the deck. It’s a great suggestion.

Today is another lovely day, still morning cool at 73˚. By afternoon, it will only get a bit warmer, up to 78˚, while the night will cool down, comfortable again at 61˚. This is perfect weather.

When I was a little kid, my world was very small except in the summer. That was when my bike and I were explorers. I knew all the best places to ride. One of my favorites was around Spot Pond, an emergency reservoir, which is really a lake, not a pond. Because swimming and boating were not allowed, I always wanted to jump the fence and swim. I didn’t. The pond is part of the Middlesex Fells Reservation, a Massachusetts state park. In the middle of Spot Pond is an island. That was always my target: swim, hide and stay on the island. Again, I didn’t. Now you can rent a boat and fish but you still can’t swim in Spot Pond.

My favorite donut was butternut which Dunkin Donuts saw fit to discontinue. I took that as a personal attack. Now I’m less particular when I choose a donut. I’m okay with lemon or Boston Kreme or a cruller, glazed being my favorite, but I do miss those butternut donuts.

My car is filled with empty boxes. I’ve been ordering everything on line of late, including groceries. I’ve also been buying Christmas presents so I won’t be frantic in November and December. I have no idea how many I’ve bought so I need to catalogue. It’s time to put it on the to do list! Actually, it’s time to start a to-do list. I don’t have to mention what tops the list!

The day is perfect, cool with sun and a bit of a breeze. This long weekend the cape is inundated with tourists. The lines of cars to go over the two bridges were long. The cape is calling this the second summer, but I’m still waiting for the first.

I ordered a new deck box, a large deck box. It was delivered earlier today and left near the front steps. The guy who delivered said it wasn’t heavy. He lied. That box had me in tears. I tried to slide the box up the front steps, all two front steps, but it got stuck on the threshold step, and I couldn’t lift the box off the step and it wouldn’t slide anymore. I sat on the step and felt sorry for myself. I almost left the box outside, but I am a stubborn sort. I got it back on the walk and started all over. This time I got it into the house. Henry is afraid of the box. I’ll slide it to the deck later.

My father didn’t believe in directions whether on the road or when putting something together. He thought of them as an affront to his manhood. The thing of it is we all knew how unhandy my father was. He could mow the lawn, trim the yard and bushes, put the barrels out and then take them back in on trash day, but that was about it around the house. Once when my mother was away, my father washed his socks in the sink, put up a clothes line in the kitchen and then hung his socks on it. My father did not know how to operate the washing machine.

When I was in Ghana, I craved root beer and cole slaw. I never found either. The only soft drinks were Coke and orange Fanta. In my town, there were three places where I could buy cold Coke. One was a hotel, the wonderfully named Hotel d’Bull, which was the social center of the town. Another was a store beside one of the market gates which had a table and some chairs out front. That was where a couple of white guys came to talk to us. They wanted to know what we were doing there and where they could find bare-breasted women. Bare-breasted women? Nope, none here. We lied. The other place with a fridge was the small DPW shop not far from my house. They had cold Coke, but, even better, they had Cadbury chocolate bars.

As for cole slaw, the only vegetables I could buy in the market back then were tomatoes and onions. I never saw cabbage or carrots. Mayonnaise was part of a daydream.

Ghanaians had a sort of salad. I found it disgusting. It had beans, yup canned Heinz Baked Beans served cold. Sometimes it had canned peas and hard-boiled eggs. The dressing was Heinz Salad Cream. I thought calling this a salad was an injustice to salads everywhere but Ghana.

This morning has already been an ugly one. When I opened the front door, I was hit with a blast of heat and humidity. I wasn’t happy. The heat means another day staying inside, staying close to the AC. When I went to get the papers, the sunlight was so strong I could barely see. When I got back inside, I decided to nuke my coffee. As I opened the microwave door, I hit my coffee cup on it and the full cup of coffee spilled all over the floor, over the clean dish towels, the dog food and Henry’s treats. I screamed in frustration. Henry ran. For a while, the poor boy was a bit hesitant to come into the den with me, but a chew stick overcame his reluctance.

Henry turned three in August. He is still a bit of a crazy puppy, but he has come a long way. He lets me pat his head, scratch his neck and rub his ears. He follows me everywhere even into the bathroom. When I talk to him, his tail becomes a lethal weapon as it moves so fast left to right or maybe right to left. I’m not sure. The only off-putting behavior left is the awful barking and baring of teeth when someone comes to the front door. The shrink vet said before people come I should put Henry outside, let the people in, have them get comfortable then let Henry in to be surprised but not crazed. The drawback, however, is FedEx, UPS and the post office. They don’t do home visits so Henry greets them with deep growls, crazed barking and bared teeth. I get why my packages are now left on the walk, not near my door.

Today, I am not my usual hopeful self. I don’t have the energy. I feel a bit zapped. TV sucks so I don’t have that as a diversion. I’ve watched some movies, even a couple all the way through, but most I got bored with after a short time. My continue watching list is long. Maybe I’ll take a nap or maybe I’ll order Chinese food. Crab Rangoon is definitely a mood enhancer. The only issue is what kind of lo mein.

My air conditioner is blasting. The humidity is back. It started last night. Around 2, I went out with Henry. The air was thick with moisture. Even that deep into the night, it was still hot, in the low 70’s. I knew today didn’t have a chance.

Yesterday it rained. At first the rain was just a mist, spitting rain my mother used to call it, then it poured. This morning the rain returned, a small rain at first but then the rain got heavier. Right now we’re back to spitting rain.

Other than my yesterday’s Amazon order, all my on-line grocery deliveries are complete for now. I’ve got a fridge full of veggies. The fruit is in a bowl on the table. The rolls are on the counter. The rolls are different shapes. The small ones are round, the thin ones long. Besides my coffee this morning, I had long roll toast with honey butter.

I voted by mail in the state primary. I will do the same for the presidential election. I will not go to the police station, my polling place, despite the president telling us we need to go to the polls to verify our mail-in ballot had been received. Has he not heard of the internet? I checked on-line and my ballot had been received and accepted. I voted once.

I love to vote. I still remember my first time voting. It was by absentee ballot when I was a senior in college. The second time was also by absentee ballot when I lived in Ghana. My first time voting was for the 1968 presidential election. My candidate lost. The next time I voted was during the 1970 election. The ballot got to Ghana about a month after the election. I completed it and sent it anyway. I’m not one to skirt my obligations.

My house is getting cleaned. The vacuuming is keeping Henry at bay. I suspect the cats are under a bed as they too hate the sound of the vacuum.

I have a dog and the vacuum story. My mother was babysitting Shauna, my first boxer, at her house. Shauna used to attack the vacuum with her paws. She’d try to kill it but was never successful. This one time she was barking and attacking the vacuum. My mother went to move it, and it was then that somehow Shauna’s tongue was sucked up the vacuum. My mother immediately turned off the suck your dog’s tongue machine. Shauna’s tongue was none the worse for the experience, buy my poor mother took a while to calm down. After that, Shauna still attacked vacuums but from further away.

The weather is amazingly beautiful. Today is the second cool day in a row. It is 72˚. The high will only be 74˚. The low will be 63˚. It was that chilly during the night. I woke up cold around four. Henry had pulled the blanket off when he joined me in bed. I pulled it back, nestled underneath and fell back to sleep. Henry sighed.

I can always tell how close it is until my couple comes to clean. I start to see clumps of white Henry fur combined with black Jack fur into monstrous balls of fur along the floorboards. I can never just walk from one place to another. I have to clean up fur as I move. Once that starts, I know it’s cleaning time.

Yesterday I was out and about, but my dance card is empty for today so I’ll just hang. I’ve been wandering the house the last couple of days trying to straighten up, bring boxes and bags to the car and put clothes in the eaves. I ordered a deck box for the new outside cushions and pillows which have been stored still in their boxes in my dining room. At first I hated them there. They put crimps in my sensibilities. I saw them every time I went to the kitchen and every time I let Henry inside the house, but after a while, I stopped noticing, weird for me as I’m the sort who straightens pictures in the doctor’s office. Yesterday, wending around the boxes to water the dining room plants, was the end, the last straw. The new deck box will arrive on Friday.

I went through the fridge clearing out what used to be vegetables. I replaced them with more vegetables. Maybe I should keep a list so I’ll know what’s what. The long one is celery.

Flowers are still blooming in my front garden, and this morning, I noticed the white flowers of the clematis have started to bloom. Soon enough the entire front fence and up the trunk of the pine tree beside the garden will turn white with blooming flowers. I always sort of think this as Mother Nature’s brilliant last hurrah.

The morning is only 68˚. All my windows and doors are open. Henry loves it. He gets to stand at the front door and bark. I love it too but without the barking.

The morning is quiet. I don’t know where the birds are. Maybe they are hunting for feeders of plenty as mine are empty. I will remedy that this afternoon.

The morning is lovely with a bright sun and a blue and white sky. The leaves at the end of the branches barely flutter.

When I travel, I love the mornings best. I wake early, grab a cup of coffee and wander. I’ve watch delivery vans unload and people hurry to work. I’ve followed the aroma of fresh bread to bakeries and bought my fill. I’ve felt the cities coming alive. To me, they feel their friendliest in the morning.

When I was a kid, I believed in ghosts and creatures of the night. I thought under my bed was the best hiding place though my older self knew better. Under the bed was the first place they’d look. I never roamed at night after the street lights came on, but I listened to windows rattling and winds howling. My father’s stories of men with hooks made scratching noises sound ominous and threatening.

When I was older, I walked a lot. I walked just about everywhere. Sometimes I walked home at night from a friend’s house or from drill practice. I’d walk as far as I could with friends then by myself for the rest of the walk. I wasn’t afraid, but I did listen for footsteps behind me. Nothing wrong with being alert.

When I woke up, my house was hot so I turned on the AC to cool it down. Outside is 77˚, already close to the expected high of 79˚. The breeze is a good one so I’m thinking deck time later this afternoon.

When I was a kid, the books I read were mostly classics. When I got a bit older, I moved into mysteries. I’m still there. My iPad is filled with books, mysteries, all waiting to be read. I get to start a new book today. It’s a banner day!

I have sandals for summer, a pair of shoes for winter and wool clog slippers for around the house and for when I do outside errands in the colder weather. I have a winter coat, but I usually just wear my sweatshirt. All of my school clothes are no longer taking up room in my closet, but my cozies are. They are my everyday clothes if I bother to get dressed. I do love my flannel shirts.

When I was in Ghana, I had to wear a dress or a skirt every day. They were proper clothes for women, but I knew that going in from the information Peace Corps had sent so I packed summer dresses and blouses and skirts. I had one pair of shorts and a Merrimack t-shirt for wearing in the house, never outside. I brought two pairs of sandals. One didn’t last long. The other pair lasted the whole time needing only new soles during year two.

I had dresses made while I was there. I’d shop in the cloth market and buy enough for a new dress, usually about three yards. One of the teacher’s wives was my seamstress. She charged a few cedis, about 3 dollars. By the end of the two years, all my dresses were made from Ghanaian cloth. When I went back the first time, I had a couple of shirts made. Women could wear pants by then so shirts were a perfect choice. In Bolga, my students gave me the gift of a new Ghanaian dress. Later, on another trip, I was given a traditional dress of three matching parts: the top, skirt and a cloth to wrap around. On my last trip, we, Peg and I, had tablecloths made, and we bought cloth, lots of Ghanaian cloth, such beautiful cloth. Friends and family got placemats and napkins that Christmas from me.

I have no plans for today, not even the tiniest chore. I still have to finish the Sunday papers and find my next new book. A murder? A visit to Xanth? Witches cavorting with vampires? The choices are almost endless.

Today is dreary, dark and muggy, a thick day. The wind comes and goes. It rained earlier for a minute or two, but the sky is still cloudy so maybe the rain’ll be back. I hope so.

My mood changes which is odd because nothing else around me changes. Some days I’m quite happy with my lot while other days I moan and curse my fate. Today, despite the dark and gloom, is a good day. I feel a bit buoyant.

I remember a school trip to the Museum of Science when I was a kid. Each of us had a list of questions, and we were to hunt for the answers in the exhibits. I had an idea. I got my friends together, and we divided the list among us. Each of us had maybe 4 or 5 questions. At the end, we got together and shared our answers. We all did exceptionally well.

Today is roast the potatoes day, a special day, a day to be celebrated before the potatoes develop unseemly eyes. I have some sweet potatoes and a few Yukon Gold. I bought some linguica to add to the sweet potatoes in a hash dish for breakfast or maybe for lunch considering how late I usually sleep. It is waiting in the freezer. The Yukon Gold will become home fries. If I add eggs and bacon to them, I’ll have the perfect breakfast.

Today is bad science fiction movie day. I have plenty of popcorn, and I have some chocolate chips so you know where I’m going with this. It is a treat to get me through movies like Earth vs. The Spider from 1958 and in glorious black and white. The next movie will be Wrestling Women Versus the Aztec Mummy. I just noticed Dead Space from 1991. That movie strikes a little too close to home: “Intergalactic horror awaits the crew of a Saturn space station hoping for a cure as a deadly virus begins to attack them one by one.” I think I’m going back to the Wrestling Women.