That Time of Year

That time of year came early this year. You know--

When I must get up at 5:00 a.m. and do all I can before 8:00, before the sun dials up the heat and humidity to awful levels. Oh dear, on hot, steamy afternoons I turn into Dorothy's wicked witch and can be heard to say, "I'm melting!" Because I do melt and feel just like old-fashioned Southern ladies, those who murmur genteel complaints and lie upon fainting couches, longing for the cool of the evening.

Well, with me, it's kind of like that.

So that is why, on broiling days, I arise at 5:00 in shadowy light and dress, then open doors and windows wide. And do what I must do--early.

But after time, the temperature rises and so must I to feed the backyard birds and water the yard, then back inside, to the basement, to gather and wash a load of laundry. Then back upstairs for a little chore, whatever I did not do yesterday, wipe down window sills, change the litter box, dust or mop or wash a sink.

And then--well, you get it.

And then it is 8:00 and time to awaken Tom and time to choose gratitude over dread--gratitude for all I accomplished before the dreaded heat arrived.

Time to accept that, of all the things in Life I cannot change, the weather is probably the biggest one, so the best thing? It's to change my attitude about it. And change my schedule, too.

I can do that.



******