Warm weather and this writer’s writing don’t go well together. It’s not because I am skipping along in the breezes off the Mississippi River (mainly due to people staying off the levees due to high water) or because I am off to an exotic beach (although I plan to do that).

My reason? The dogs keep wanting to go out, and then in, and then out, and then in, and then out. You get the picture. Then, they shed, tossing the thin white threads of their existence throughout the house. It’s impossible to write when you see all of the dog hair bunnies riding the currents of the air conditioning system.