Many clouds did grey the sky
Many negative words were heard
From people inside and out
'Twas a sticky day
Air conditioning was required
And the fans they never stopped
'Twas a sticky day ...
With apologies to Paul Simon.
It is still sticky although I can hear Big Bertha, my rusted, trusted vintage Westinghouse fan cooling further the screened in porch. Cooder has spent most of the day under some bed or other waiting for the unpleasantness, that she neither understands nor approves of, to pass. Emmylou, infinitely more hair-laden, made her usual rounds, albeit somewhat slower. And she did spend a good portion of the day flat.
Sticky and Scratchy, that's me today. Yeah. I am somewhat uncomfortable what with a strange rash on my right knuckle (I thought it was a mosquito bite but apparently not) and my strangely painful right knee. Oh, the breakdown of the body.
For those of you who have yet to reference and absorb the article I linked y'all to last night, here's another quote from Albert O. Hirschman:
"Creativity always comes a surprise to us; therefore we can never count on it and we dare not believe in it until it has happened. In other words, we would not consciously engage upon tasks whose success clearly requires that creativity be forthcoming. Hence, the only way in which we can bring our creative resources fully into play is by misjudging the nature of the task, by presenting it to ourselves as more routine, simple, undemanding of genuine creativity that it will turn out to be."
Hmm ... I'm taking my sticky and ouchy body to bed.
Your rewrite explains your weather well. Hot & dry here.
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