Notes on the Grippe

Being an accounting of the recent and continuing pandemic and its various circumstances, from the perspective of an inhabitant of the regions lately called the Lost Quarter. Dates unknown.

Day One Hundred Thirty Four

The heat wave continues. The plants in my garden are wilting when I go out to water them in the morning, the day already warm and the sun bright and unrelenting. There were heavy clouds first thing in the morning when my love and I walked to work, the air damp and heavy, but they burned off quickly as the morning progressed.

Our home grows progressively warmer with each day, the nights not cooling off as they usually do in these parts. We sleep without covers and wake feeling sticky with sweat that hasn’t completely dried. I wander about the house wearing fewer and fewer clothes, even finally relaxing my prohibition against wearing shorts. I am not a child and I am not in gym class, but I dislike sweating while sitting and dealing with my correspondences.

My love finds my distaste for shorts baffling. She is from warmer climes where such things are a necessity and perpetually wears shorts when she is home regardless of the weather. The only thing she finds more inexplicable is my refusal to wear sandals of any sort. They are not a shoe and I am not going to go wandering outside without protection for my feet.

Of course it would be cooler. As the hot days persist with no end in sight I may find myself surrendering and waiving another of my prohibitions.

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