I'm sitting out on the deck while WWII rages in my living room. Things don't look good for the Allies. Let's hope they get it together pretty soon.
The sun went down a couple of hours ago -- remember, I'm in that weird Arizona time zone, and the sun goes down an hour earlier for me than for most of you (in the U.S., at least). The temperature has fallen to 84, there's a gentle southwest breeze, and it actually feels nicer out here than inside, WWII notwithstanding. I guess it's because of the humidity difference. But it's a dry heat! has become a cliche simply because it's true. Until we get the monsoon flow, our humidity this time of year stays around 5%. Actually, I'm pretty sure it's been lower than that, but our hygro-sensor readout isn't capable of registering anything below 5%. Why, I don't know. Perhaps for the same reason that the temperature readout on the same gadget has never, ever, registered the temperature as 66.6. Really. I've even done scientific-type experiments to prove this hypothesis. It will skip from 66.5 to 66.7 every single time. Go figure.
Over the years I've gotten used to the dryness here; I changed my skin and hair care products, I spray saline up my nose a lot, and I drink a lot of water. The only real hazard I still face is static electricity. Earlier today I accidentally brushed up against a light switch and shocked the living hell out of my left boob. My nipple is still hard. I'm getting a bit worried about permanent damage. Wouldn't that be the pip, spending the rest of my life with one hard nipple. Yikes.
My pets are once again plotting my downfall. I am the only thing standing between them and world domination. You're welcome.
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