It was so hot this morning at 4am that I had to use the windshield wipers to see where I was going. By 6, I felt like I had been running for days. Most days, delivering 100 papers before breakfast is just good exercise and the only real time I have to think. This morning, it was just humid. After the long drive back to Clear Lake yesterday afternoon to drop off Bastian, I'm feeling a little sore and dumb. This morning's heat just put the finishing touches on exhaustion. I walked through the tomatoes with my coffee this morning and forgot all about the first three hours of the day. The fruit is starting to get some color. So, the weather is bad for me, but good for the garden. I feel like I'm stalking the tomatoes. I check on them four times a day. We have a few green casualties sitting in the window sill from when we staked the plants last week. I look at them fifty times a day. I don't think it makes them turn red any faster.
My parents brought back three very beautiful ripe tomatoes from my grandparents' garden in Missouri. We ate the last one last night with blue potatoes and steak. The kids were all gone so I ended up feeling ambitious and starting a movie. An hour in, I gave up and went to bed. Colin took the papers for me yesterday morning so I wouldn't fall asleep with a car full of kids in the afternoon, so there was no argument from him. We get tired. Stupidly tired.
Bastian took a trunk full of loot to Minnesota with him. I finally gave up on a lot of things I'd been telling him he couldn't take. He's older now, though. I figure he can take care of his stuff. If he can't, he just won't have as much cool stuff.
I scooped the trash and rubble out of his room yesterday and am tackling the little girls' room today. There is a project in there that I'm dreading. The air conditioner vent is in the floor and isn't screwed down (brilliant!!!), so Zoe conducted an experiment where she removed the metal cover and dropped everything she could get her hands on that would fit in a 3" x 6" hole down the vent. So the vent is blocked and their bedroom door has to be open all of the time or it gets as hot as an oven in there. Her toys, a few shoes, and some clothes are all sitting at the bend about 12 feet from the hole in the floor. A broom handle with a wire hanger taped to it is not 12 feet long. I disassembled the tree trimmer and put a wire hanger on that. After retrieving a shoe, a plastic horse, the bottom of Zoe's swimming suit, and half a dozen stuffed animals, I gave up. Mostly because Tori was talking in my ear. "Mom! Mom! I DID not Do This! Mom! Mom! What's down there? Mom! Mom! Mom! Is Zoe in trouble? Will our house light on fire in the winter because all that stuff is down there? Mom! Will it? Mom! Are you getting it? Mom!" And on and on and on and on. All the while Zoe was sitting on the step crying loudly because she knew she was in some trouble for this stunt. I was so thankful when she got quiet that I didn't go and LOOK at her to see what she was doing. So, what was she doing? Spreading lotion all over my bedroom mirror and wall, of course. I've not had the gumption to tackle that situation again. The vent mocks me when I walk by. Today, I will conquer it. Or I will call a professional. I don't know which professional, but I will call one. Maybe a psychic could tell me if the chaos will ever subside. I probably don't want to know.