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Thursday, July 19, 2012

Dear Diary, 7.19.12

   Today is a glum kind of day. One that has little physical or mental activity. The heat is cooking everything inside and out. The little left that is green has turned under to reach the ground from whence it came. The little wildlife left is scrounging the dirt coming closer to the house. The bugs and mice are beginning to come inside in search of food. The cats stand a vigilant watch. The birds have moved north in search of seed. The hum of the a/c is now a drone the buzzes continually singing the song, "wait til the bill comes in baby", then the diet will be for the birds. Right now, the whirr of the forced air seems to be the gerbel running the wheel going no where. The thermostadt is low enough to produce a sweat if there is any exertion. The dust is being pulled through the walls placing a light silt on the furniture, changing the brown to white. I'll let is stay awhile, looks like new. The air is filled with the fine mist of earth that has nothing to cling to. Pictures of the dust bowl come to mind. The house was painted on the outside last year, hope it will stop a bit of the land from moving within.

   It is a listless yoke possessing the town, little but essential traffic, not even a visit to the old watering hole can get us out. The heat sways the air. Somewhere there is activity, somewhere it is cooler than here, somewhere, someone, some ones are busy with the activity of life. The nonsense of everyday chores, not here.

   Much to do, so much to do. Just sitting here thinking about the air. The inside of my nose is so dry it feels like it is outside. Yesterday a bug tried to get to the last of the moisture in my nostril. Then  the giant claw swatted the critter into oblivion.

  It is not Friday. If it were Friday it would seem like there was an end in sight. Three minutes of rain this morning is all we got to the storm prediction. Must carry on with life. They say that every person needs, or uses, thiry gallons of water a day, for grooming and consumption. 'Must think about a way to reduce that amount, must conserve, must watch the water, must be careful, must watch the levels.' Sponge bathe, sink soak the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, no dishwasher prewashing, soak it. vacuum the dust instead of washing it. Another drone to listen to, the vacuum injesting the dust of outside, that has been sucked inside. The outside moving inside.

  We had brown outs the day before yesterday, five blinks in a row, then five more. If the power goes, the water goes, the well pump won't work and we will have to rely on the bottled water we have for emergencies. Water to keep the toiet clear, and water to drink.

  It has been months, the heat, oppressive, intensive, scalding, beating down, day after day, the brilliant sunshine bleaching the horizon, leeching the green to a pale yellow. The cows are in trouble, less for them to eat, winter wheat. The farmers horde saved for the snow, rolling out to lay before the beasts of beef, months before their time.

  Solar panels would suck in some of the sun, wish I had some. Now all there is to do, is to think safety, and carry on with the day. Do something useful. Do something to distract. Do something.

  I will wash my face, and save the water in a bucket to throw on the floor in the basement to help keep down the dust, until the rains come.

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