Except for the sound of the fans, the house is absolutely quiet. No footsteps upstairs, no traffic sounds, no sirens from the nearby firehouse. I'm beginning to think the humidity has sucked all the life out of the city. How hot is it? The bacon grease I poured off into a can last Monday is still as liquid as it was when it was right out of the pan.
After church I went to a long lunch with a friend (thankfully, Appleby's wasn't that busy, as we were there for over two hours). Nice to sit and chat, catch up on things and make a few plans.
That was almost three hours ago. My thought was to come home, start a load of laundry then go somewhere cool for the rest of the afternoon. But I made the mistake of sitting down, and got caught in the ennui humidity brings on. By the time I was ready to move, it didn't make sense to go out. So here I am, hot, sticky and miserable. That I only have to endure three more nights of this, counting tonight, doesn't really ease the pain.
The rest of the evening involves pizza delivery, cold beverages of both alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties, lots of ice and an early bedtime, maybe.
Twenty-four hours from now I'll know whether my initial offer has been accepted, or if the dance will continue for a few more days. Hard to believe someone may turn me down (insert sweet smile and fluttering eyelashes here), but it could happen. Eh, there are hundreds of other condos on the market. Still, pray for this one to go through!
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