Hot 6-20-10

6-20-10

Yes, it’s hot. Thank God, the Library is air conditioned.  A lot of people felt that way today! I just looked up at the thermometer in my house: 100.3 F. at almost 6 p.m. Oh wait, it went down to 99.9 F. Nope, back up to 100.4 F. Some damn bird must be having sex outside of the window...

As you can probably tell, I’m a bit cranky. (Hush up, I can hear that.)  Last night, my dehumidifier in the basement went to the great junk pile in the sky.  So I had to replace it, and at the same time I bought a small window air conditioner.  If I’m going to work (and I have to in order to pay for the air conditioner and dehumidifier), I need to sleep.  I can’t sleep in this heat.  They claim it will go down to 70 F. tonight (I don’t believe it), but by the time it does and the humidity really soaks in … that means I don’t sleep.  So, thank God for Miguel.

He’s still a wheeler dealer. He charged me $30 to go pick up the stuff at Rocky’s and install everything. But then he charged me $25 to dispose of the old dead dehumidifier.  Now wait … I know what you’re thinking, but this was AFTER he told me that he doesn’t pay to dispose of the junk because his brother in law is at the recycling place in Springfield. At that point, I was so hot, I would have paid him $100, so I’m not really mad.

So this morning, I’m driving to work and realize that I’m behind a pickup truck with three Portapotties (Portapottys?) in the back with a rope stretched across to keep them from toppling out.  And I’m thinking, what if they did? That would be a hell of a way to die: crushed by a Portapotty.  But moving on to more upbeat thoughts (after all, it was the beginning of the day), I thought, “I’ll bet that rope is to keep those rowdy Portapotties in line.  They have been known to party all night.”  O.k., so maybe the heat is getting to me.

I read yesterday on MSN that some zoo is really upset because a tortoise pair who have been a couple for 115 years have broken up.  They noticed when she bit chunk out of his shell. (She has done it again, apparently.)  They have tried enticing them with ‘loving food,’ whatever that means. It shows a zookeeper offering them fresh tomatoes.  Maybe they should add pasta.

I know why they have broken up.  No, it’s not lack of marital intimacy.  It’s not even the fact that she has heard every one of his stories – 18 times.  No, it’s because she wants to travel and he doesn’t.  Now she gets to travel to another zoo because they don’t want her to keep beating him up.  But it brings up the question (which was not answered in that story): what about the kids? Were there any kids? If so, will she visit them?  Will the new zoo try to pair her with someone else? Do they have to get a tortoise divorce? Maybe there’s a prenup.   I hate it when there’s no in depth reporting going on.

Speaking of which, for the first time in ages I tried to go to Atkins where they are installing two (count ‘em, two) roundabouts. Don’t get me going.  The road is closed right at Hampshire College so instead of driving about two miles, I had to drive six or seven. Anyway, coming out, they let me go into the first roundabout which ended in the detour. (I was also annoyed because the store was closed at 7:15 p.m. when their web site had said “Open 7 days per week until 8 p.m.”  Apparently, Sunday is the 8^th day.)  But back to my mini rant.  The lane, bordered on both sides by sharp curbing is so narrow that I felt as if I were driving a summer luge track.  I can just see the 80 and 90 year olds negotiating this with a bit of snow.  Ha!  

Atkins says their business has dropped off by 30% due to this detour and construction which seems endless.  There was another man there just as disappointed as I was, so maybe it has now dropped off 31%.  I hope not.  We need their butcher shop.

Finally, some things are just nice.  On the spur of the moment, I decided to have conversations with Marlon to help him improve his English.  He’s from Brazil and speaks Portuguese.  I am learning a lot about his works.  He’s an oceanographer studying the sediment in the water where the fresh water meets salt. (Neither one of us could remember the word for that in either language.) He looks at mango groves in certain coastal areas and he’s looking to see how the ecosystem is affected by changes.  Last night I learned how he gets his core samples.  The time before he tried to explain the methodology for carbon dating items.  I know, I know, but I don’t know what to talk about with this 27 year old.  Apparently, he’s working day and night, leaving his wife (who can’t speak English as well) to take care of their son and take English classes and look after the apartment. Wait. That sounds familiar.  Anyway, we usually spend an hour or so just talking and I correct his pronunciation.  I can really take him aback with one word: why?  Poor guy, but I think he’ll be prepared when he has to do postering. 

By the way, I’m not really sure he understood me when I told him how ceviche is made.  But then he told me he likes sushi, but he likes the seaweed in a cone, filled with good stuff.

Time for me to get out of my work clothes and put on shorts.   Stay cool. (It’s now 101.2 F.)