Our air conditioner is still broken, so the windows are thrown wide and the fans are going lickety-split. Outside earlier black and steel grey clouds were boiling in the distance, now it's overcast and the sky is growling at Willow. (She takes thunder so personally.) And someone nearby is marinating their steak in lighter fluid, overwhelming the fading scent of the privet bush, which seems to be everywhere we go. The road to the airfield last week was lined with privet, and, when we came home through surface streets last night, they dotted the sides of the road intermittently.

We took Wil for ice cream today, as we did before I had the surgery; I go back to work tomorrow. How time flies when you're having fun. (And I'm not being sarcastic.)

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 5:18:00 PM

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