. . . sizzled and burned

Oh, it is hot, hot, hot here in Kansas. . . the misery index or whatever is supposed to be 112 degrees today. Outside activity is discouraged. Even swimming is tiring. Everything but the weeds in the garden are shriveling up. However, for really hot, nothing can compare to July-August 1980. We were living beyond the hubs of hell in a small community in central Kansas. The house had no central air conditioning but we had a couple of window units. And I was eight and one-half months pregnant. The temperature hovered over 110 degrees for 17 days straight. I don't think they have a misery index for that. We finally resorted to hauling a mattress to the living room, and Stephanie and I shared that on the floor and my husband slept on the couch. My Matt was born on August 6; thankfully the weather broke the night of August 5, but they practically had to pry me out of that hospital. . . it was so nice and cool. I do not plan to do any sanding or messing with furniture today. . . but we did have new concrete steps put on the front of the house to replace the brick-veneered steps that were caving in, and someone forgot to tell the guys that neatness counts. So I will be trying to scrape concrete from my nice new white cement siding, because I can't stand that it looks so sloppy. The concrete guys will be working in the neighborhood next week, so I think I'll have a word with them. . .