Here's the view out the study window this morning:









That's condensation on the window due to the temperature and humidity differential between the inside air and the outside air. At the moment (8:00 am) it's 76 degrees outside and the humidity is 94%. We're supposed to set a record-high temperature of 96 degrees today.

Of course, global warming anecdotes are everywhere, and this one isn't even particularly dramatic; this is the same heat wave that seared California a few days ago, causing over 100 deaths; and Steph and Patrick just suffered through a similar heat wave in Leeds. But this is the Hot Day in My Neighborhood . . . there's just something about the quality of this heat that's weird and scary. It's like the air is thinner than it used to be, or something, so the heat feels more intense on the surface of your skin.

I find this kind of weather intolerable. I get very cranky when it's hot, and lately, with my flare-up of asthma, hot days make me think that I'm going to be one of those little old ladies who's claimed by the heat . . . not a very cheery thought.

It does make me feel better when I consider that in a few short days I'll be living a lifestyle that massively reduces my contribution to global warming . . . call me a tree-hugger, but I really do feel guilty about driving 70 miles to go to work.

The news on that front: We've delayed our closing on the new house by ten days. This is not much, but this week should prove to be informative in terms of our future financial position: Emil will find out about that job, and we'll have our open house. I spoke with the realtor who showed the house last Saturday, and he was very helpful and upbeat: He had a few good suggestions for things we could do to improve the house before the open house, and he was kind enough to mention the things that we think are selling points (like, the fact that we actually use the basement for things like watching TV and working on computers, so people can tell that it's dry and habitable). I don't expect that we'll get a contract immediately, but if there's interest in the house, I'll feel a lot better. And heck, maybe we will get an offer. (I would feel even better if the house were really clean . . . I wish I could fly my brother in to town to clean the bathroom.) (And paint. And deal with the floors in the study, and do all those other home-improvement things he does so well . . . )

But nonetheless, if Emil doesn't get the job and we don't get some serious interest in the house, we will have to rethink our plans. I really don't think I can get myself to move under those circumstances; I can't stand the idea of bleeding money like that. Let's hope that scenario doesn't come to pass . . .

So time marches forward but I feel as scattered as ever.

We'll see what happens . . .