Many of the house windows are covered with condensation and stepping outside was not unlike going into a bathroom where someone has showered. Thunderstorms are predicted to be possible this afternoon. This, of course, tells me that the grass is going to get longer today. Actually, everything out there seems really green and the air is still; did I wake up in The Day of the Triffids?

This summer the act of watching the grass grow is not so much of a challenge; I am now caught up in waiting for the tomatoes to turn red. Shouldn’t I have some red cherry tomatoes by now? I don’t remember. I did get them in late, remembering that last year Der Bingle and I experienced a warm early spring day and stuck plants in and I spent a month running out and covering them at night. If I could think of a plot, I could write a book and call it Tucking in the Tomatoes. It probably wouldn’t need a plot with that title; it would be a nostalgic memoir sort of thing. Then there would be the movie with a famous, award-winning, beloved older actress.

Perhaps I should have titled this: AmeliaJake’s Brain Reporting Fog. Fog with Spikes of Crazy is more like it. Ack . . . another book title.