According to Google, it’s 90 degrees. In other words, summer has arrived. For the longest time it didn’t feel like June. I’d say that, and whoever was around would say, “oh, but it’s always cool and rainy in June.” It wasn’t that. It just didn’t have that almost summer feel. Now it does. My hands smell like tomatoes and feta cheese, I’ve been laying on the living room floor, reading Spook and getting covered in dog hair from the rug. It’s too hot to feel very hungry, and too hot to seriously contemplate the bundt cake I’m making for Kate’s shower tomorrow.

I love summer, and I love to complain about it.