I’ve had to tell a lot of people to put their shoes on, which is kind of a bummer. I understand it’s hot and your tootsies are feeling infringed upon, but it’s a public place. It’s a dirty public place. I wouldn’t want to put bare flesh to any surfaces, you know?

The cats are lying around like dead fish, mewing imploringly at us when we make eye contact. Gus is afraid of the fan, so there’s no use in moving it closer to him. He does, however, like to cuddle up to an ice pack, so that’s good.

The thing I’m not down with is the hot at night situation. I’m also not down with this seemingly random rash of lady assaulting – first a dude knives and rapes and kills down in South Park and then I find out a girl was sexually assaulted on my city block. This after I’ve spent weeks alone with open windows, all blasé and not caring.

Sky’s made a dinner pasta out of vegetables from our long-suffering garden. I think it’s down to 94° by now, so maybe the cats will join us for dinner.

P.S. My vacation was lovely and I’ll write about it soon, pinkie promise.