(This is one reason, aside fronm nostalgia, that I check the historical stats every morning. Reminds me that it can be much worse, like in 1988, high of 37.8 living in a house with no air conditioning.)
I need to go shopping for veg again at some point. Used to be Fiesta let us oldsters skip the queue when we showed up, waving us in ahead of theline, but the last two times I've had to stand in the hot hot sun. Only last time as I got near the doors, the checker waved an elderly woman in who'd just arrived. Evidently I don't look old enough for line jumping, which I suppose is a compliment. But jeez, guy, don't you see my white hair and my pathetic limp?
In fact I can do without veg for the moment. Hot weather, to say nothing of last week's electrical shenanigans chez moi, lead to the internal uncertainties of summer stomach and appetite loss. System thinks dry crackers are just the thing thanks, or at best some avocado toast, So, though a week ago the heat had bloated me up to heart-breaking March levels, today I find myself nearly 4 lbs lighter. And yes, even that makes a difference going up and down stairs. 1 lb = 3-6 pounds of force on your joints. That's... not a small difference.
I've been tearing through all my Judge Dees at the rate sometimes of two a day. But two of them have gone walkies somewhere about the house and I know not where I have laid them. This bothers my completist soul no end. In happier days I'd bike to a library or the bookstore for a replacement but these are not happier days. After almost four months I begin to wish we were now as we were once before, but, well, we aren't.