It feels like solitary confinement. The heat and humidity are keeping me inside the house, in the cool of the house. When I stepped outside to get the papers, I gasped because of the thickness of the air. It almost felt as if I were walking in slow motion. Every time I open the back door to let Gracie outside I am blasted by heat. She is out only a short time but comes in panting.

I think it might have rained a bit last night. The driveway was wet, and the outside table was filled with water, but it doesn’t matter. What little it might have rained isn’t enough.

The caterpillars are gone. My deck has very little frass. It has leaves and small branches from the trees but that is easily cleared. When my lawn is cut, they’ll blow the deck clean. I just hope for a cooler day so I can sit outside and read. Saturday night movies will probably start next week. I’ll have to get my hot dog machine and my popcorn maker ready.

My Saturday night deck movies will probably start next week. I’ll have to get my hot dog machine and my popcorn maker ready. Maybe I’ll test the popcorn maker this week.

I haven’t seen people in a while. I might as well be living by myself on a deserted island. Once in a while a car goes by the house. I hear it but don’t see it. My trunk is filled with trash and recycles.

My trunk is filled with trash, cardboard, papers and bottles. A trip to the dump is on my list but not today. The dump is always an extreme reflection of the weather. In winter it is a Siberian steppe. On days like today the heat is almost unbearable and reflects off the metal bins. Even a short stop is a sweaty stop. Maybe the afternoon will be cooler, but that, I suspect, is a faint hope.