Heatstroke

I don’t react well to summer.  The heat first poleaxes, and then deranges me.  Right now, I’m in the deranged stage.  Last summer I painted my whole apartment in heat so severe that the paint was drying on the brush faster than I could get it on the walls.  This summer I lay around on my sofa for a week or so staring sweatily at my living room, and came to the conclusion it looked “transient”.  I’m still not entirely sure what my soup-like brain meant by that, or why I felt this was so disturbing, given my fondness for rescuing furniture from tips, and my penchant for using outdoor furniture inside: it seems hard for it NOT to seem transient.   My solution was to buy more bookcases, and paint anything that would stand still long enough, and now my living room is a library with a sofa in it, which seems to me pretty much ideal – and as usual, the hotter it got, the more paint I applied.

That’s it for the summer now, really – I can’t muster up any enthusiasm for anything that can’t be painted.  Or at least not until I go away.