Alas that phrase not only includes the cups of chicken soup I've been slurping for days, but our weather which is suddenly very Spring-like. Much is blooming and along with the evening frog song, cicadas too lend their steady sounds. It is much too warm for February and that can only mean one thing: greater heat and the possibility of more hurricanes in the months to come.
When I first arrived here forty years ago, February was cold, so much so that one needed outerwear. While it did not snow, icicles and frost often covered puddles, rooftops and other areas and I distinctly remember having to wear a wool-lined coat and gloves.
Not so today when I got away with two tee shirts and a pair of shorts. The tarp covering my upstairs rooftop from the air and weather is still in place and because it also covers the compressor for my air conditioner, the unit has been running at about four degrees warmer than the temperature on which it is set to run. In an effort to prevent burning out the motor, I've turned it off completely, resulting in an ambient temperature of seventy-seven to eighty degrees. Either way, things are a bit muggy and opening the windows does not seem to help much.
The virus which has taken up residence in my chest and head is slowly losing ground though I predict another week of coughing and more soup. Lukas dislikes the coughing so much he now claims a living room chair for long term sleeping.
I've not been out of the flat for two weeks and really do not feel much like trying to go out. I'm also sorry that my posts of late have been less than interesting.
I wish you all a good weekend.
