Currently, it's 83˚F in the house. Outside, it's 84˚F, heat index at 87˚F, humidity at 59%. The high today should reach 94˚F. If we had AC, these temperatures would make me very happy.
I tried to work yesterday. I read "The Maltese Unicorn" aloud to Spooky, getting that world and its characters back into my head. I tried to do some plotting on the new story, but by mid afternoon it was just too hot in here and I was getting sick. I'm going to have to write something for Sirenia Digest #126 while I'm working on the research and plotting of the new Natalie Beaumont story. It's my only hope of not getting even farther behind than I am already. I also talked with Yanni at SubPress about the cover for Dear Sweet Filthy World.
Still being on LiveJournal, I think I know what all those people who couldn't immigrate to the Outer Colonies must have felt. "No housing shortage around here. Plenty of room for everybody," as J.F. Sebastian said.
It's odd that I've said nothing about Gary Marshall's death. Few people had as great an effect on the pop-cultural landscape of my childhood and young adulthood, from Happy Days (1974-1984) to Mork and Mindy (1978-1982) and beyond. I mean, the guy was a writer on The Dick Van Dyke Show (from 1961-1966) and Gomer Pyle, USMC (in 1964). And, of course, he was Laverne's dad. And now he's gone. The icons of my youth grow fewer with each new day.
Last night, I lay in the swelter and tried to lose myself in Guys and Dolls (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1955) and Singing in the Rain (Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen, 1952). I got to sleep sometime after four ayem.