In a reading mood anyway, I had planned to spend the evening curled up with what's left of Storm Winds by Iris Johansen. And I mean that quite literally. I left the book in my car yesterday, the glue of the binding melted due to extreme heat and the book fell apart in weird clumps.
But when I checked my voicemail there was a message from a friend saying, "Hey Deb, why don't you come on over and swim?"
Half-fried by these triple digit days, it doesn't take a psychic to guess my choice.
grackles fly over
the swimming pool