"Man, it's a hot one...
Like seven inches from the midday sun..."
-Rob Thomas with Santana in Smooth
It felt like that today. I thought I was going to melt away into a little puddle.
Or rather, a big puddle.
I was leaving trails of sweat drops everywhere I went on the yard today. If I hadn't had the Watcher with me, keeping me distracted from my misery, I probably would have just fallen out.
But we hadn't had a chance to talk in awhile and both of us had really bad personal crap happening at home. So we spent most of the night swapping stories and telling our tales of woe and commiserating with each other.
It felt good to let some of it out. I felt a little better, even while I was miserable.
Working the yard is so draining in this kind of weather. By the time we closed the yards and I went to help JT count 1 house, I was staggering around like a drunkard. Even now, home and showered and changed and cooled off, I'm still limp as a dishrag. My mind and body are both shot.
And I get to do it all over again tomorrow. And on Thursday, when I get to do the Del Norte walk again.
O' summer, you horrible beast, will you never end?
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