The Petri Dish

Dirtiness is much more difficult to accept in this heat and humidity.  We thought to go to a fish taco place last night that we enjoyed in the winter, but we thought again just before going and didn't want to sit at sticky tables and drink beer from bottles.  We were snobs, we decided.  We bought steaks and wine and cooked at home.

I had to think about that for awhile.  How did it happen?

You know.  First slowly, then quickly.  Besides, eating at home was cheaper.  Probably.  Maybe.

Even the nice bar was warm.

"Nobody's air conditioning is keeping up with the heat this summer," exclaimed the barkeep.

But places like The Breakers are not having trouble keeping up with the heat.

And mine is doing much, much better now that I spent money to have the attic double insulated.  I've even dropped the temperature for night sleeping.

Don't try to imagine it.  If you don't live in it, you can't understand what it is like to be in the grip of this madness.  That is why I ordered Jackie O's at the bar yesterday afternoon.  Served in a coupe glass.

Weather like this will make you yearn for the hundred degree temperatures of the west, that dry, luxurious heat in which nothing grows.

Here we live in a petri dish inside a greenhouse.  We are covered in spores.  It is weather for snakes and alligators.  It is not conducive to mammalian life.

O.K. O.K.  I'll stop.  I'm just trying to rationalize my summer snobbishness.  One desires a clean, cool place.  I am envying people's pools right now.

But you can't have everything, can you?  As Steven Wright says, where would you put it?

My grand confession of the day--I bought a Mont Blanc Meisterstuck Rollerball pen on eBay for a very low price.  Brand new and in the box.  Oh, it is a delight.  Do you know how good that looks next to a Leica and a Moleskine notebook?

I'll have to show you sometime.