Every night since we've returned home as I lay in bed, wishing for a break from the heat so that I may sleep, I hear cicadas. I know that I'm not really hearing them, but in my heart I do. I didn't realize I missed that sound so much until we were in Arkansas where the night air was thick with their sound.
It's going to be another hot one (although they say cooler than yesterday's 100+ heat) and I think I see a slight breeze, finally. Nothing is worse than cooler air outside with no means of it making its way into your home because the air is just sitting there with no nudges into this furnace of a house.
I sit in our basement with the windows open (the only space in the house where two windows are situated across from each other is the basement) feeling the coolness against my neck as I type. I should go check on the upstairs, but I don't think I want to feel the warmth as I know it is still there.
I wish Kev was up so we could go on a bike ride, it's the perfect morning for it. Overcast with crisp air. I hate mornings like these on what will probably turn out to be the hottest day yet (I normally am an optimist, but hot makes me cranky in Portland). Their such teases.
Of course I sit with my latte that I've let cool to just shy of cold. If only I had ice...