My air conditioner is blasting even though it is cooler outside than yesterday. I was hot when I woke up and figured I’d chill the house for a bit. The day is pretty with a strong breeze and lots of sun. The dogs were chasing each other in the yard, and both came inside with tongues hanging. They are lolling in the AC.

Yesterday I cleaned my living room, everything in my living room. On the bookcase, long neglected, was enough dust for me to write a short story in it. I polished and washed everything I could. The problem is now I have to do the rest of the house because the living room looks so good.

My hall has bits of bark on the floor. Nala brings in branches, albeit small ones but she gnaws each trophy and spits out the bark. On the floor are several toys which used to be in the toy box. Nala likes the squeaks of the rubber toys. Henry prefers soft toys. They share.

When I was a kid, I was seldom inside in the summer. I especially went out when it rained. I loved getting wet in the softness of a summer rain. I’d stomp on the puddles in the gutters and watch the water spray out on each side. My sneakers would get soaked and bubbles would surface through the canvas when I walked. I never bothered to change. My clothes dried in the sun.

Sometimes, if the rain falls straight down, I sit on the deck under the umbrella. Rain surrounds me. I hear the drops hitting the leaves and the deck being pelted. Over my head, the rain makes a tapping noise on the umbrella and drips down the circle. I sit where I stay dry.

In Ghana, my house and the classroom blocks had tin roofs. When the rain came in torrents, I couldn’t be heard by my students. The lesson had to be taught using the chalkboard. The tin roofs made the rain sound tremendous, dramatic. Since then, I have always wanted a tin roof.

My hall is empty. The basket of laundry is only a memory. I finally bit the bullet and washed it yesterday. I didn’t realize how long it had been until I found my Christmas pajamas and socks on the bottom. It took two trips to carry it back upstairs.

When I was a kid, we didn’t even have a fan. My mother used to pull all the shades down to keep the house cool. I remember the living room was dark all summer. Upstairs, the bedrooms were hot, but I never had a problem falling asleep. I was usually exhausted from playing or bike riding all day.

Today is a bit cooler than it has been, 81˚. A breeze is coming from the window behind me keeping the den cool. Yesterday I lived in a closed house with the AC blasting.

I have no reason to be out and about today. My plans include a bit of cleaning, mostly upstairs, a bit of reading and maybe a disaster movie or two. The one I am watching now is just awful. It is called 40 Days and 40 Nights, with the title giving away the whole plot. The movie opened in the Sahara which wasn’t the Sahara. A jeep, a red jeep, was doing wheelies. There was underbrush but very little sand. The two couples in the jeep saw the storm coming over the mountains, yup mountains, and decided to do more wheelies in the same spot and in the exact same way. I guess the director didn’t think we’d notice. All of a sudden a flood came over the mountains and the jeep went under, no more wheelies. The plot is Biblical.

Every night I move the cat’s gate to my doorway to keep Nala inside with me. She had been going downstairs while I was asleep and using the dining room floor as her port-a-potty. It worked except for Henry. He won’t come inside my room. He suspects something. In his roaming, Henry realized my bedroom was inaccessible but the cats’ dishes were fair game with no gate for protection. The last two mornings the cats’ bowls were clean. I thought of a couple of solutions but discarded them. I can’t force Henry inside my room. That would scare him. I could entice him with food but he’d take the biscuit and run. My best solution is to put the cats’s dishes on one of the beds until I buy another gate.

I went out with the dogs this morning. They chased each other a little bit until Nala grabbed the tiniest branch which had a couple of oak leaves. She ran with the branch in her mouth as proudly as she could be. Nala had caught something.