This is one of those sticky, steamy summer evenings with thunder in the distance and a gentle rain falling that makes me think about winter and driving snow and temperatures below zero. On a night like that, I would have been tucked up in my jammies with a mug of hot chocolate and settled down for an evening of writing hours ago. Now I’m trying to spend an evening writing, but I’m thinking how I should go pull a few weeds or take the dog for a walk or go hang out with my neighbors for a little while, and…
Yeah, summer days are great, but they’re also long, hot, and tiring. I feel as though I should use every precious moment of them, and I feel so guilty that all I want to do is lie down and read something that I don’t have to think about revising!