The AC went on first thing this morning. Despite the open windows, the house felt stuffy. Both dogs came inside with their tongues hanging then decided to chase each other back and forth in the hall with a stop on the couch to chew on each other’s muzzles. They drove me crazy. Henry is now barking at something he heard outside. I’m ignoring him. I know his bark language. He probably heard a car.

Today will be in the 80’s and cloudy and hot the whole day. Thunderstorms are predicted for tomorrow, but I’m skeptical. Rain seems always to make an end run around us. Everything is dry.

I enjoy being home in the cool air and don’t push myself to go out despite a car already filled with trash and two bags of cat litter still needing to be loaded into the stuffed trunk. It reminds me of a clown car at the circus which miraculously unloads clown after clown after clown. I’ll remove the bags with a flourish.

I keep thinking I can go to the dump early tomorrow after coffee and the papers instead of today. It just seems too hot today to be hauling trash. I could stay home and vacuum a bit and maybe even dust. I do have to put on a new toilet seat. The other one broke this morning, and I just happened to have a spare toilet seat in the cellar.

When I went to Morocco, I had lunch in a village near the mountains. I needed to use the bathroom so I was directed to the small building outside. It was a bathroom with a hole. In Ghana, many bathrooms were just holes. They were easy to use as I wore dresses all the time because women didn’t wear pants back then. The best technique was just the simple squat. This time though I was wearing long pants. I had to figure a new technique on the fly. I decided to rely on my experiences and squat. It was a little complicated in long pants, but I successfully managed all three: the hole, the pants, and the pee. Later, on one of my trips to Ghana, at a gas station stop, the bathrooms were outside. I went to the ladies and found a hole. I was wearing long pants, now culturally acceptable, and I had experience with long pants and a hole so I was unperturbed. I just squatted.

The morning is cloudy, foggy and humid. It is already 78˚, the predicted high for the day. My AC is blasting. We all find it comfortable. I do have to go out today but late in the afternoon. Until then I’ll loll. I’ve already done far too much this morning. Let me tell you about this morning.

I am alive and well. The dogs are to blame. First up, Henry, who, when excited, twirls and jumps in the air. This morning he landed on a totally topped off filled with water dog bowl. The water went everywhere into two rooms, dining and kitchen. The dining room took the most water. At first I thought of rags, but then I remembered I have no rags. Paper towels were not even considered. Cleaning up would take a whole roll, and it was then I got my inspiration. I covered the water with newspaper for blotting purposes. I got my coffee and sat down.

I got the mail this morning, Saturday’s mail, from my box. I put it on the stairs. When I almost finished my coffee, saving a bit for Henry, I went to get more and looked on the deck. My mail was there. I found the four envelopes and the catalog then I remembered the large plastic envelope. I looked over the fence rail, and there it was torn apart with the invoice also in pieces. I went to do yard pick-up. I think I need one of those sticks with a nail of sorts so I can collect the paper without bending given how often I pick up what was trash and what has become trash. Anyway, the envelope had a plastic bottle prescription renewal. I looked all over the yard for the container. I didn’t find it. The grass in the back is too big and the pill bottle is too small. I checked for symptoms in case she ate the pills but then I wondered where she’d stash the bottle. No luck again. Right now she is sleeping, and I keep poking her. She seems fine. I called my pharmacy. They’re sending out another prescription overnight at no extra cost. Now I just keep Nala watch.

All of my adult life I have kept Saturday as a bit of a play day the same as it was when I was a kid. When I was in Ghana, unless I was the tutor on duty, I could do whatever I wanted on a Saturday. That maybe meant a trip to town on my motorcycle. I loved riding my moto, as the Ghanaians call it, and the town always seemed almost magical but not in the sense of eating fire or making your assistant disappear. It was the magic of being so far from home in a place so unfamiliar yet loving every minute of it. Each experience made me want to clap my hands with glee. I never tired of living in Ghana. It was always magical.