I am so hot, and so cranky. It hit 100 today; I stayed home from work to rest my back, a bad move since I have essentially done nothing but sleep all day*. My air conditioning was not working, until I cornered my landlord this evening; he hotwired it into the dryer circuit. (The power had been disabled for the new air conditioning that is eventually (?) coming). I'll give up the dryer any day for the AC in this weather, though. Even my hair, which is thick enough it can stay damp for days in cooler weather, has mostly dried in a couple of hours today.**

And my back is so low-grade painful; it's just a drain***. (The doc this morning says he thinks it is sprained; no big shocker there, considering symptoms. I am old and creaky and disgruntled. He says to stretch and lose weight. I went to the store afterwards and bought potato chips. I'm just cranky, and spoiling for a fight).

And I really want to go the movies and watch Iron Man: but my conscience -- and my editor -- says I have work to do, so much work to do.

There! I just thought I'd complain a little. Nothing to see here.

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* And read the fantastic Un Lun Dun, by China Mieville, which is superb YA-fantasy about London,reminiscent of the Phantom Tollbooth. Funny, a little subversive, highly recommended.
** Even with the AC on, the ice in my ice water is melting in 15 minutes; and butter left out liquefies in an hour.
*** Is that ice down your pants, or are you just happy to see me?