Out Of Time: Hot, Mellow and Nostalgic

While pre-packing this evening, I ran across a photo album.  That got me jonsing for more photos, which got me looking at all of my 2001 photos on my PC, which got me nostalgic for crisp autumn mornings and cool spring evenings and, yes, even nippy winter afternoons.  That set off the urge to enjoy the languid summer days we are currently experiencing, so I’m out on the patio enjoying the living hell out of this, the hottest day of the year.

The day is far from over, but the sun has hidden behind a bank of clouds in the west.  In front of me, and to my left the sky is still blue, and the temperature has fallen to a mere 96 degrees.

My impending trip also has me eager to enjoy these steamy days.  And is it some sort of hot!  This is day five of over 90 degrees and day three of over 100.  I’m sitting out here with a cold Trappist Ale and a cigar, doing nothing more strenuous than type and take an occasional sip and I’m sweating rivulets.  Still, this is highly unusual; generally, mid-August sees the beginning of cool nights and, once I leave, I won’t see another New England evening until nearly September, when the cool nights turn into chilly evenings.

And, much as I’ll miss summer, I won’t mind that, not at all.  I’m already looking forward to sweaters and flannel shirts and baking bread and making stew and cheeks tingling from the crisp morning air.

I have much to do before I leave, however.  There’s shopping, packing, visits, preparations, etc.  And it’s only a week away.  Next week at this time, I’ll be on my way, heading out over the Atlantic, hopefully in a fine state of inebriation.  At midnight, our time, I’ll be in Heathrow.  Two hours later I’ll be in Ireland.  Man, what a story that’s going to make!

The job is going well, too.  I’m a little lost, but I can feel myself catching on.  It is, after all, mostly a matter of being organized.  And I’m nothing if not organized.

But the interviews; what a sad thing they are!  I’m trying to hire some people but we’re at the end of the list where the bottom-feeders dwell.  I feel badly for them, I really do because I was there, I was one of them, I was trying, just like they are, to get ahead.  And just like them, all I encountered was frustration.  I would like to help them, but I’m looking for the one with that spark, the spark I saw in Nancy and in Diane (two of my ex-assistants) that says they have what it takes.  So far I feel like Diogenes searching for an honest man.

This heat is wilting me, but I like it.  Still, I think I’ll stop even this activity and just enjoy the rest of my Excalibur and Trappist ale.  I won’t have many more evening like this for a while.