Too hot to blog. Or think.

Sure, I grew up in hot humid New Orleans.

But we had air conditioning.

It was a way of life.

Here on the west side of Los Angeles, only one of my four apartments had central air; one had a window unit in the living room only; the other two, none at all.

And that's rarely been a problem.

Holy cow this is freaking miserable.

The dog just skulks around, trying to find cool, dark places to sleep (we find him under furniture more often than not, now).



Sigh.

We leave tomorrow morning and neither of us has packed. And we certainly haven't clearned. It's nearly 9pm.

Part of it, I'm sure, is the absolute dread that accompanies this trip. Sure, I want to see my dad; sure, I want to see my friends; sure, I want some beignets ... I even want to see what the city looks like. Sorta. But part of me isn't. It's been nearly a year, and I still am not entirely sure I'm ready.

I will try to blog while I'm away. With pictures, if I have the technology.