I’m not talking about when it rains I’m all mopey and sad and when it’s sunny I’m all rainbows and brown acid.  I’m talking about when it’s so goddamn hot outside that doing anything other than submerging your body in a tub of ice makes you recoil.  That’s how I’ve felt the past few days.

See, I live without air conditioning.  Archaic, I know, but thanks to deregulation and electric bills that make my soul die, I’m not about to throw a couple of air conditioners in there either.  Not to mention that even here, there aren’t too many times during the summer where I’m crying on the inside wishing I had one installed.  But there are a few.

Like this past week where we had 6 straight days of above 90 degree heat mixed in with dew points in the 70s.  I love choking when all I do is walk out the door.  At least in the morning it’s been somewhat cooler but this morning sucked.  It was already 80 at 6 am.  Ugh.

But heat makes you tired too.  And sluggish.  And unmotivated.  Blah!  So I’ve wanted to do nothing more at night than sleep in front of my fan instead of doing my writing like I would normally.  At least, at the very least, I finished rewriting the first chapter.  That was the major hurdle.  From here on out it’s a blending process.  And so I didn’t feel like a complete slug when I didn’t feel like working on the manuscript, I was skimming through my Elemental Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures looking for faeries and faery-like creatures for the book.  I really need to get my hands on Brian Froud’s books but that’ll have to wait until the paycheck comes in.

So at least I did something while I sweat.  I don’t feel totally bad about not having done anything.  I did *something.*  Granted that something was next to nothing.  But it was something.  Does anyone else do this?  Become totally unmotivated when it’s so hot you don’t even feel like peeling yourself off the floor?