You are the reason my heart broke behind my back

[sovay]

It is no longer a hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit in Somerville. It is ninety-four degrees. That's all right; it's supposed to feel like a hundred and two. We're waiting to run our errands after dark. I did not sleep last night.

Having covered the essentials, I would like to write more of a review of Sense and Sensibility (1995), but it may require sleeping, which may require being in a different climate.

On the other hand, I just learned that the very first duel fought by Alexandre Dumas of Musketeers fame was a glorious display of incompetence on the part of all involved, including Dumas practicing with the wrong weapon, his opponent sleeping through the appointed time, and the rescheduled duel being first delayed by Dumas' pants falling down and then almost immediately concluded when his opponent tripped and fell on his ass. The article from which I got this information offers no suggestion that this farce was achieved in anything but a state of sobriety. Even if Dumas embroidered a little, I'm pretty charmed.

Comments

[redbird]

I wasn't sure I believed that 103, and when I looked for another weather station the hottest (!) was 98. I'm very glad I haven't been out since 8:40 this morning. (This apartment, for all its flaws, is newer than many in Somerville, and the living room at least can be cooled properly.)

[sovay]

I wasn't sure I believed that 103, and when I looked for another weather station the hottest (!) was 98.

It was what the Weather Channel said earlier this afternoon, and our apartment has been awful enough that we believed it. If it was only 98°, that's less numerically horrifying but still not all right.

(This apartment, for all its flaws, is newer than many in Somerville, and the living room at least can be cooled properly.)

I'm glad to hear it.