Another heat wave is starting in Boston as I write this, and I plan to take another Internet break as soon as I post this. I plan to finish reading Lincoln in the Bardo, which is holding my attention although I find it weird and somewhat anachronistic — for example, there were no "sweaters" in 1862). It does remind me of Spoon River Anthology, which I love. And I know this is a funny criticism, but the book feels more like a trick than a groundbreaking new novel form. It's written sort of like a play — so there's a ton of white space between the soliloquies and dialogue. I keep thinking, "I could write this . . . ."
So, of course, I keep reading to be proven wrong.
We caved last week and bought a well-recommended "quiet" (Frigidaire) air conditioner for the bedroom. Today will be its debut. It does seem quieter than most others, but we don't know if we can sleep with it. The cats will have NO problem. (And we really got it for them, of course. The fact that I was a feverish, miserable mess during the entire last heat wave didn't matter at all.)
Here are so flower photos I took recently, usually on twilight walks around the neighborhood. Flower photography strikes me as similar to shooting fish in a barrel but, on the other hand, spring blooms are with us for such a short time that it makes sense to celebrate them.
I'll be back tomorrow.