It's not the heat, it's the stupidity

96 degrees out, and am I going to walk down to the mailbox? -- Noooooo, siree. Not this chubby chick. There are clothes to be washed and text to be skritched out, so I am hibernating indoors this afternoon,waiting for the kids to fly in to the Charlotte hairport from New Yawk City.
It's peculiar when I get here. When I have a spot to say something, everything in my head that was important simply vanishes. It's as if the act of looking at a white blank page is sufficient to completely erase my memory. (Or else it's Oldtimer's Disease setting in.)
I did have a moment of clarity last night, when I expended a lot of time, cusswords, and bug bomb on a group of ants who mistook my house for a dinner and dance club. I was cleaning and swearing and getting all 10-18 (that's EMS talk for lights and sirens going on the ambulance), and suddenly the Voice in My Head That Knows Everything said, "Shut up and be grateful you have a house, and sweep every day so the ants won't come back."
So I did. That Voice, man, it knows it all, sees it all, and tells it all. In spades. (How was I ever so fortunate as to acquire it?.....thank you, Left Brain, for supplying me with such an intelligent, stubborn monitor. It is very good at looking after me when my son cannot.)