Time was, July was a long undifferentiated tunnel of heat and sleep deprivation. One went from the rationality (usually) of June into a vortex universe with no markers, and came out somewhere in August, preferably to the Autumn Preview some time in the first ten days, with purpose and direction returned to the world, and no memory of the last five weeks. That went by the board in the cool summers of '08 and '09, when rationality never departed. (Much. July '08 melts into a memory of constant thunder.) Now the 36C weather brings mindlessness back again, and I can't remember mid-week what I did the previous weekend.

The latest bout of 36C disappeared some time Tuesday night. I looked out the window just after sunset to see clear sky above, but only a little to the south a cloud with lightning rippling through it. No thunder at all. I watched the show for a little, queasily, something I'd normally never do-- lightning, ugh-- but still can't see why people think storms are so cool.

Reading my last Mary Russell, The Game, saved from last year for summer doldrums. Is readable if one doesn't think, rather like Felix Castor, but doesn't lift the spirits.

Came across something that required googling Babylon 5 characters, and was surprised by a reflex iya da! reaction. Not sure why I loathe Babylon 5 as much as I evidently do: it may have something to do with the atmosphere of the late 90s, or American fandom's insistence that the show was our last best hope for good SF. Possibly if I'd ever watched any Whedon shows I'd feel the same way about everything of his, but luckily I never did.

It grows cool and the basement at once begins to smell of mould. Shall start covering the vents, since the window AC does a reasonable job of keeping the whole house bearable. Must rescue laundry from the basement lines or clothes will have to be washed again. Cherries have fallen: can stick them outside now.