Steve made us power pancakes for breakfast, with strawberries, mmm, and I’m allowing myself a second cup of coffee while I balance the checkbook.
In respect of the called-for 92F/33C temperatures on the day, I have preemptively closed the curtains, to the dismay of the resident felines. Well, except for Scrabble. Scrabble knows how to get inside the curtains and sit on the sill. The Silly Fluffs also know how to do this, and if their gruntle grows sufficiently, they will use this knowledge. For the moment, however, I am being Tasked with the complaint that the Comfy Sun Places. . .have no sun.
The heat pumps do a really good job of keeping the house cool, and I am increasingly glad that we decided to damn the torpedoes last year and get them installed, rather than waiting until this year, when we could have theoretically “afforded” them.
Our bow to the holiday is to have the Food of Our People for lunch — hot dogs and various salads — but mostly this is a working day, there being work to be done.
Everybody have a good Thursday, and we’ll see you on the flip-side.
Today’s blog post title brought to you by War, “Low Rider.” Here’s your link.