Today I am boycotting the great outdoors. Today, the outdoors are not so great; when I got up at seven o’clock this morning, it was 80 degrees out. The high is 96. Which, when I swung my legs out of bed and listened dully to the public radio announcer say it, made me want to just disappear, like some reverse version of Toad, back into the great cave of my cool sheets and blankets till fall.

Besides, today, I am not so great, either. Last night after work, I went out for Mexican food with Ginger and Carmelita, and even though I’d been the one drumming on the dashboard, practically, in my excitement at the prospect of mole chicken and the best salsa in the world, by the end of our meal, I was ready to crawl under the table and sleep. We crawled home instead, and while Ginger and Carm’ went on to drink beers on their porch and enjoy the beautiful evening, I tossed the shade over my the bedroom window to shut the sun out and went straight to sleep.

I have a scratchy throat today, and a feeling of fatigue that will not quit. However, I also have a/c and a loyal kitty-cat and a computer. And a fall syllabus to design, and an article to write and well, an apartment full of furniture and belongings to transport across town in the coming week when I move, but screw it. I will eat corn fritters and watch McCabe and Mrs. Miller, which has been sitting, taunting me for weeks, lounging around my apartment in its little red Netflix sleeve. (I like to pay fifteen dollars a month to rent what usually amounts to one or two movies. It’s great.)

Anyway, today I will read good things, and I will write things that have nothing to do with obligation, and I will sure as hell not take one step outside until that sun has the decency to go away again.