I recently mentioned our relatively cool summer and WHAM!!!!!, it is not 100 degrees, but it has been in the 90’s and humid. I believe the low was 70 last night. Of course, those who live in southern areas are rolling their eyes, I suppose, but it has been over a year since we have had warm nights and it feels a bit strange to have the air give you a moist hug when you venture out at midnight. (Trash night, dontcha know?) We are all feeling wimpy for remarking on the heat in parking lots, when we remember that three years ago, we would have been so glad to have a day that only made it to 90.

As for precipitation, well, it may rain and it may not. The percentages keep changing on my phone forecasts and, in fact, the sky alternates from angry to bright blue  – that would have annoyed me 50+ years ago in my suntanning days. Yes, I’m old enough to have been around when tanning was in vogue, although I do remember us all shuddering when we were at the pool at Indiana University and saw this lady with skin that looked like thick, creased leather. I think that caused me to wise up more than any scientific alerts.

It’s still mid-afternoon and I could put on crummy clothes and do something dirty – outside where it’s hot – and sweat. Or I could just sit here and think about it. I need to find my sunglasses, though. The hunt might take a long time; I imagine I might have more success if I got up and actually looked. The view over the computer is someone limited. Of course, I could look at that as a challenge.

Why, why, why do medical assistants constantly refer to a doctor as “Doctor” as is “Doctor will see you now.” or “Doctor wants you to know . ..”   I’m certain that almost every other English noun referring to a person has an article in front of it. The doorbell rings, someone answers and yells, “THE plumber is here.”

“Room Service” may be here, but “THE waiter” rolls it in.

I’m guessing at the asylum, the workers say, “Here comes THE  new nutcase.” Yet, they tell the nutcase” DOCTOR will be right in.

Obviously, I am still irritable.

I am usually easy to annoy, often sharp and have an irritable response close at hand, but these past few days, I have been the Mt. St. Helens of irritability. I’m not really expecting to be very pleasant today, but I think yesterday was eruptive. When one hapless grocery-bagger was totally incapable of following the simple request to hold the bar code where it could be scanned and twisted the item six ways to Sunday and then gave me a puppy dog look, I responded with “the look of death.”

That was the beginning. Another look of total pity and disdain was addressed to a young medical technician who looked at me and asked, “Have you ever had your blood drawn before?” Then when a urine analysis was required and I asked for some water first, she hesitated as if that couldn’t possibly work and grudgingly gave me a glass. When I went into the restroom, my eyes were sarcastically telling her, “Now, sister, I’m going to go piss one for the Gipper.”  Like she would get the reference.

One man mentioned the bushes needed trimming around my house and I let him know that I abhorred neatly little manicured shrubs whose shapes denied the random flow of nature and were far too short to impart any sense of of wooded refuge into the house.

As the day progressed, I came home and remarked to my daughter-in-law that I had run into “that floozy”.

Fortunately, when I discovered the pharmacy had put conflicting information on the medicine bottle, I just decided I’d call on the next day and went stomping off to be by myself,

Gee, looking back at this, I’d  say I didn’t really erupt; I rumbled. Which means . . .????? Vancouver, this will soon be it? Maybe.

We have started painting zee fence. (Feeling a little Frenchie for a moment) and it is Pebble Grey.  My shorts now have Pebble Grey spots on them, but, hey, that’s okay since I had a bleach accident with them a year ago.

It is always enlightening to realize how BIG a fence is that encloses a SMALL area when you start painting. I don’t know how long it will take us but I am looking forward to the part when we get to where the woodpile used to be, because a couple of years I painted the fence with the wood piled in front of it and it looks a little odd now that the wood is gone.

If I had artistic talent, I would paint an evergreen forest on the fence panels with a path leading somewhere magical. But I don’t, so Pebble Grey is as magical as it gets. Maybe I can pretend it is a gentle fog rolling in, carrying the scent of the sea. I could add a fog horn for verisimilitude, or I could stand out there and pretend to be a fog horn. I suppose that would get old and I might wind up in an asylum with Pebble Grey walls – not too stimulating, dontcha know?

So, Josh Duggar has admitted himself to a long-term rehab center as a result of revelations about his past, and I guess, his right up until “The Site” was hacked, present. After the first go round, The Discovery Channel took “19 Kids and Counting” out of production. I got to wondering today if with the huge base of viewership and supporters that the Duggars have, that The Discovery Channel might rethink its position and present the show as the same big family MINUS ONE dealing with the stress, shame, embarrassment brought about by the Rehabbing Black Sheep.

I think they could draw a big audience as they deal with family trouble, something that most everyone has . . . except up to now, the Duggars. I’m talking bottom line here, business-sense stuff. I don’t know that I am correct in my evaluation, but I wouldn’t bet against it.

Der Bingle tells me that this gift took most of the Icebats’ allowance, and I want them to know I really appreciate it.

This is my first birthday since Shane died; it’s been a heck of a year.

I took the Shark vacuum up to Lagrange and vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed. You get such a feeling of accomplishment seeing the dirt come into the compartment and being easy to dump out. Then you start feeling tired. Not because the Shark is hard to use, but because you keep thinking, “Oh, I just get that one more place.”

It’s a big house and I’ve still got a lot of Sharking to do. There is a remote possibility the novelty will wear off.

We bought paint for the fence; I’m not feeling the joy in it. Gosh, I seem to be a wet blanket tonight, but I don’t care.