Monday Morning

The morning is very quiet, except for the sounds of birds chirping and an occasional passing car. The temperature is 75°F and I have a window open beside me. The sunlight is very hot, very intense. I'd like to go outside and do some yard work, but it's too hot. I don't like doing yard work too early in the morning because the tools I use are noisy and I don't want to disturb neighbors who may still be asleep. That leaves late afternoon for doing yard work. And at this moment, it's not late afternoon.

I hear the slam of a car door. One of my neighbors is going somewhere, or coming home from somewhere. School has ended and summer vacation has begun for the children. I would expect to be hearing sounds of children playing, but I don't. Maybe they are sleeping late. Now, even the birds have stopped chirping. All is silent. Well, all would be silent were it not for the tinnitus ringing in my head. But I'm accustomed to that sound—I've lived with it for many years.

For breakfast I ate two chili dogs. Hot dogs, they are, topped with a streak of mustard and a hefty serving of hot dog chili, and diced onion. The best hot dog chili I've found is Food Lion hot dog chili. It has no meat in it, but then, real chili has no meat, does it? If you add meat to chili, it's called chili con carne—Spanish for "chili with meat." Chili is made of peppers and spices. Of course, many people make chili with ground beef and call what they've made "chili." Even the International Chili Society (whoever they are) says chili has meat. So the name has gathered confusion. But confused or not, my chili dogs are delicious. 

For lunch I'll eat a garden salad. Or two. I make them with iceberg lettuce, red cabbage, carrots, cherry tomatoes sliced in half, and chopped green onions (scallions). I top the salad with a tasty dressing, usually white balsamic or thousand island, plus bacon bits and sometimes croutons. The result is really good—almost as good as my chili dogs.

Now, the outside temperature has risen to 84°F and the air is muggy. (Muggy means unpleasantly hot and humid with little stirring of the air.) By this afternoon the temperature forecast says the air will be 95°. I've closed the window beside me and the a/c is running. What is the weather like where you live?

I began this post with absolutely nothing to write about, and I'm ending it with six paragraphs filled with absolutely nothing. It's a mid-summer Monday morning filled with hot, humid air and summer doldrums. Maybe things will get better. I do have many writings in my computer that are much more interesting than a Monday Morning, but I'm not sure I'll ever publish them. Some of them feel too personal to share, or I think "No one would find this interesting," or I decided they're simply not good enough to publish, or a combination of those things. Maybe one day, I tell myself, again and again.

Maybe one day.