As I am fond of telling anybody who will listen, I live in the House That Science Forgot, wherein the laws of thermodynamics seem to be suspended so that this place is like a brick oven all through the summer, retaining the heat even at night when the temperature drops outside — yet in the winter it is chronically colder indoors here than out and I occasionally find myself freezing to death.

Right now, for example, I find that I am dripping in sweat from the normally low aerobic impact task of typing out this blog post.  So much so that this is probably as far as this post goes.  So in case anyone gets to wondering what it is I’m up to this week, the answer is:  sweating, profusively and unattractively.  That, and eating strawberries.  If any of you take pity on me and want to send a frozen margarita bucket my way, I will definitely not object.