If I have my ambulance lens on, the birds appear.
If I have my bird lens on, ambulances come instead.
If I use a lens that might sortakindaalmost work for either ...
... I get a fire truck. A long ladder truck, not a short
little pumper.
And the chimney swifts wait until I'm tracking a pigeon
across the sky to decide to slow down and glide up close
on my blind side. They're deliberately taunting me, I
can tell. Maybe I should have tried to bribe them with
that spider.
Or it's possible that the unseasonable heat wave is just
making me extra cranky. (307K/34C/94F -- in my bedroom
on the shady side of the house -- for the third or fourth
day straight, and barely any cooler at night (if it wasn't
this warm the first day of the heat wave, it was only a
degree or two cooler, so we may as well call it four days).)
Perrine has staked out one _relatively_ cool patch of floor
at the base of a flight of stairs; every so often she comes
to me and complains about the heat. She's got a decent
vocabulary for a cat, but not enough to understand, "I'm
sorry, sweetie, but I can't fix that; we both have to wait
for the thunderstorm the nice folks on the telly promised
for this evening." (We do have enough shared vocabulary
in our human/feline pidgin for her to tell me she's unhappy
about the heat.) I suspect that most of the unusually high
number of ambulances passing by today and yesterday are
transporting patients sufferring from heat-related ailments.
August arrived two months early. Bah.
crankily (and stickily,
thanks to the humidity),
-- Glenn
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