Suddenly it's summer. It's hot. We get back into town Sunday evening, get the puppy out, go to the river for a swim. The puppy won't get out of the water, my dog won't get in the water. I go to the hamburger store because it's late, I don't have anything to make, and it's too hot to cook even if I did. I see no dog heads in the car windows when I come out - have they been dognapped? Or escaped? No, they're snuggled up next to each other in the back seat.
The puppy spends the night upstairs. He's incredulous that he has to sleep on his bed on the floor. What, like some kind of ANIMAL? At 3 a.m. he convinces me to let him get up into bed with me. He's a better snuggler than my dog (but don't tell my dog - he tries).
Monday night I get home from work and it's too hot to do anything but hang out in the back yard with the dogs. I read a book a little, like I always imagine myself doing. I somehow make a fantastic dinner - fresh mozzarella, tomato, basil (I had to buy the tomato - I've got one just starting but not quite ready yet), stir fried garlic scapes (again, not mine - I only had one hardneck garlic survive the winter), and a ridiculous steak on the grill. And white wine! Very adult, very summery.
The puppy's roommate gets home while I'm in the shower. The puppy stranger-danger barks, even though he sees his roommate out the window. I get out of the shower, let the dogs downstairs, then go outside and start to get in a tiff with the puppy's roommate. About stepping stones and geology. I don't know why.
I say good night to the puppy (and his roommate, putting an end to the burgeoning fight) and go up to bed, planning to sleep well. I get my dog up into my bed - he's just had a bath and he's acting a little sad, so why not. But he wakes me up at 3 a.m. (again) with his scratching.
At work this morning, suddenly, suddenly, it appears as though thick smoke has seeped in through the window, but it hasn't. I rinse out my contacts but the smoke is still there. I rinse them out again. I go home at lunch, take out my contacts, put on my glasses, but my glasses are dirty. I clean them, but they're still dirty. I mean, it's my eyes, the smoke is in my eyes.
We look at the raspberries coming on and they are huge. Aren't these big for the first crop, I ask. No, he says, you always say the first crop is big but doesn't taste as good. I say that? Yes, you always say that.
The smoke clears up. (Sudden onset cataracts that left as quickly as they formed.)