We're running out of water, too. We just had watering restrictions put into place. We can water our yard on three specific days each week, from 6 pm until 10 am. If we had an automatic watering system, this would be easy. However, our 40-year-old sprinklers broke this spring. Unlike every other spring we have lived here, the annual Great Sprinkler Break was not one that we could fix with a lot of digging, a lot of new sprinkler heads, and a lot of money at the home improvement store. So now I water the grass in our large yard by dragging around a hose. It's not all that hard, but in temperatures topping 100, I can't seem to manage to keep the grass green. It looks pretty dry and hot.
And yesterday our air conditioning just failed. Last night it was 90 degrees. In our kitchen. At dinnertime. Needless to say, there was no cooking of dinner going on in there. We bailed out, got pizza, and took it up the canyon. So glad we have a canyon nearby where it is so much cooler. We ate our pizza in a beautiful spot in a forest in the mountains. It was so peaceful and shady - no one wanted to come back to our hot house.
So when we got home, we set up the tent in the backyard. The tent held six of the kids. No, five. No, four. Now five again. And six... and five. The tent doesn't really hold the children very well. But those who were in it thought it was great fun to camp in the backyard. A couple more tried to sleep on a mattress on the ground, or in a hammock.
When Trent got home from work around 10 pm (yeah, that's pretty normal. And sometimes early for him.), he inflated a big air mattress for the parent-people-who-are-too-old-to-sleep-on-the-ground. I thought sleeping outside meant that we would be turning in early, or at least when it gets good and dark. I was wrong.
We got all settled in around midnight. And then I swatted bugs for a while. It was still hot, although much better than inside. A breeze kicked up which was more pleasant still. And then the neighbors came home. I listened to them talk, then yell, then set off fireworks. Real fireworks, the kind that fly up into the air and explode. At 1 am. Trent bolted up, delirious from sleep, thinking that we were being shot at. I'm glad he had been able to sleep to that point.
At 2 am, I finally gave up and went inside. I figured that with the breeze and our windows open, the house would have cooled off somewhat, and I could take a cold shower and get my hair wet if I needed more cooling. I laid in bed and watched the electric storm - close enough to see good flashes of lightening, but too far away to hear more than a faint murmur of thunder.
At 3 am, everyone else came in, too. The gentle breeze had given way to a 25 mile an hour wind, with gusts getting close to 40 mph. The tent came down, all the bedding piled up, and everyone rushed in. We hurried around, battening down the hatches. All the windows in the house were wide open to take advantage of the 74 degree wind, but we had to prop all the doors open and tie down anything that could blow away. All the kids were tucked back in, either to their own beds, or to the rec room floor.
Weary now, I stumbled back into bed at 4 am. And slept. Until the phone rang at 6. When I finally woke up again, it was past 9. Blazes! The sun was high, all the windows were still open, and the house had heated up again. "At least it's a dry heat." Yeah. A dry heat wicks away every bit of moisture from your skin, your eyes, and your lips. And it's still hot.
At 1 in the afternoon, the kitchen is only 82 degrees. Maybe I should go clean it up. The boys are in the somewhat-cooler basement. No one wants to move. We're all a little short-tempered. Angel and Georgie are laying on the floor, claiming they are not tired. Everything is a mess. And poor Freddie has a fever.
Hot. Welcome to summer.
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