I don't usually keep the air conditioner running all night, but this morning I'm glad I did: the overnight temperature never dropped below 70 degrees, and it's so soupy out there--air thick as beach water. We might as well be living in Philadelphia or something.

Today and tomorrow are both supposed to be wretchedly hot. I'm going to mow grass first thing this morning, get the beans picked and such, before I return to inside life. I finished my editing project so my plan for the day is to read and write--Donne's poems, my own poems, maybe begin scratching out some prose ideas--and then bumble out to the salon in the evening. I spent a few hours yesterday afternoon with a new draft, and it felt good to be back at it: wallowing in my brain-world, after a week of not much writing.