Those of us of a certain age will remember the "Dick And Jane" readers from grade school. My mother had taught me to read before I went to kindergarten so I found these simplistic books totally boring, but who could forget "See Dick run. See Jane run. See Spot (their dog) run."? Down in the barn there is a small mouse whose fur has lighter patches instead of the sleek grey-brown coats of the others. Of course his name is Spot, and Spot does run. He belongs to the tribe under the inner wall of the milk room and he comes out to eat his cereal on that side. Then he races under the milking stand to get a drink of milk from the soaked wipe on the outer sill. While I enjoy all the mousies, I do like to have at least one I can recognize by name.
It was 85 degrees by 11:00 yesterday morning and it didn't stop there. I don't need an excuse to do nothing, but I'll certainly take one if the opportunity arises. Needing to clear space on the DVR, I binge-watched a number of episodes of "Call The Midwife." The setting is the poverty stricken east end of London in postwar 1950s. England was still suffering from the effects of World War II and I can't help comparing that with the booming economy in America during those years. Having attended a convent school for two years, I can relate to the nuns who run the midwifery program.
We're supposed to get a break from the heat by this weekend. Maybe I'll be more productive then.