The first thing I did when I woke up was to turn on the air conditioner. It is already 81°, hibernating weather, and the humidity is 87%, both inside and outside. We are back to clouds and a dark day. We may have thunder showers. I hope so.

My house is quiet except for the sound of the air conditioner. The dogs are having their morning naps, the first of many naps. They lead such hard lives.

I have chores I can do, but I am not in a chores frame of mind, maybe later. The last few days I have been ensconced on the couch with book in hand. I have several books on my iPad Kindle app, but I like the feel of a book, the actual turning of the pages. Yesterday I finished Forrest Gump. It was far different than the movie, but it hooked me fast. The book had been a Christmas present, but it got piled with other books, and I forgot it was there. It was serendipity when I found it on Tuesday.

I remember reading Little Women. It was a Santa gift. Santa always knew what I’d like. That book held me from the first page, and I only put it down at night when my mother demanded I turn out my light and go to sleep. I’d pretend to do just that, but, instead, I’d sneak and read my book under the covers. I’d use my over the headboard light under layers of covers so I could read without detection. I remember how hot it got under the covers. I’d have to come up for air. My favorite character was Jo. She was creative, independent, stubborn and a bit feisty, all attributes I admired. When Beth died, I mourned.

I was so taken by Jo and the March family that I read Little Men and Jo’s Boys, the sequels to Little Women. I still have that present from Santa, the actual book I received. The pages are yellow befitting the age of the book, and the spine has nearly fallen off. The glue didn’t last.

Years back I bought a whole collection of the Jo’s books. There are six of them. When the books arrived, I read all six of them. I was back with the March family.

Sometime early this morning it rained. I was in that hazy time between asleep and awake when I heard the drops. I went back to sleep. It was misty when I woke up, but the rain has since stopped. It is a dreary day. The humidity is high. The morning is dark. It is cloudy. Intermittent rain is predicted. Right now it is 79°.

I took my time this morning. I had no incentive. Even the dogs are quiet. I finished all the puzzles in the paper. That may be my only accomplishment today.

Summer days when I was a kid seemed endless. The light stretched into the night hours. We could go out and play after supper. We just had to stay around the neighborhood, within shouting range. Sometimes we played games in the street like Red Light-Green Light, Simon Says and Red Rover. In Red Rover the strong were early picks. Little kids were tail-end picks.

I remember the street light being a sort of alarm clock. It was time to go inside. The living room lights in all the houses were the first to be lit. They were the front lights behind the picture windows. I always took comfort from those lights shining through.

I was never afraid at night. Even when I was older and walking home in the dark I never worried. Street lights shined on the roads. House lights shined on the sidewalks. Usually I was alone walking home from drill. I wore sneakers so my footsteps were muted. It was quiet. Back then few cars were out at night on the little roads. The loudest sounds were the night insects, the katydids and the crickets. They sang in harmony.

Of late I have become nocturnal. I usually don’t go to bed until after 2. Some nights I go outside with the dogs. They run into the yard, and I stand on the deck. I always feel a little like Ozymandias before the break. My neighborhood has no street lights. A few outside porch lights are lit. I can hear the insects and the frogs singing far different songs. I sometimes see a car, but I never see any other people. I always feel I own the night.