This has nothing to do with the serious nature of battle in parts east/southeast: Middle East.
This has to do with that blasting heat on the other side of our door. Here I am, a mentally and physically tired, pathetic, and bored-STIFF person who is hating, HATING the weather outdoors.
CABIN FEVER. In the wrong, oh, so wrong, season. Winter cabin fever, please come, come to me!
I get up before dawn. I sip a cup of coffee. (read: teacup, because a big ol' mug of coffee gets cool before one hits the bottom, so why? A teacup of coffee is hot to the last sip.) I venture outside to the best part of my day: Sun is not up, but dawn's early light is. Sun will arrive in one hour...
I run with the dogs. I water every little plant that has been planted. I plant myself in the kiddie pool that I purchased as a joke for that Spouse o' Mine, but now we realize how much we enjoy that kiddie pool. ((My life is so rich. Yes. So, so rich.)
And then I come indoors.
I have not gone back outside. I've sent that Spouse o' Mine out, and the College Boy out, but I have stayed indoors.
I make a lousy shut-in. I am bored. Tired of the TV, the radio, the internet. I have read. (I Am a Cat by Soseki Natsume) I have listened to John Rutter compositions on Spotify. (Thank you, College Boy, for Spotify.) I have quilted, made gazpacho, painted my toenails, and played my cello till I am convinced I will never be Yo Yo Ma.
Come, Dear Winter, Be Our Guest.