It's Just the Sun

You can fault me for many things, but you cannot accuse me of inconsistency.  I like what I like and dislike what I don't, and I don't flipflop on things.

I don't like Brussels sprouts and I really don't like liver, and no one ought to wait for the day when I ankle in and say, "Hey, I been thinkin' on this liver thing..."  It just won't happen.  The last known change of mind that I can recall happened in maybe  5th grade, when I put aside a lot of my boyish toys and decided I liked girls, after all.  And Sandra Dee had already married Bobby Darin by then, so I was too late.

This brings me to the heat.  Good heavens, it's hotter than the hinges on Hades around here these days, and even as I stay inside and avoid the infernal streets and sidewalks, I can take comfort in knowing that in four months, it will be November 8, and it's got to be cooler on November 8.  And for all those who clamored for it to be a bit warmer last winter, are you ready to give up now and say you'd rather be cool?

I found this picture on the excellent Bits And Pieces blog, and it's one of those pictures that are worth 1,000 words.  I don't know where this poor letterbox was, but it demonstrates why I am glad my mailbox post is made of wood.  Plastic just can't fight back when the sun is only ten feet above the surface of the earth, as it is this week, and that's why we ALL feel a little droopy.  It's just the sun.

You're supposed to call your doctor if it stays this way for more than four hours, according to the good people at Cialis.