The Honest Courtesan

Every year, I forget just how much the Dog Days wear me down.  I mean, I certainly expect it, because it is every year.  But somehow I always underestimate the actual extent of the tiredness, restlessness, brain fog, and other symptoms until I start experiencing them.  Since it’s considerably cooler here than anywhere else I’ve lived, even in August, one would think that the rapidly-shortening days would give me some relief, but it’s almost the opposite: I power through June and July by pure force of will, and by the time I recognize that the sun is setting before 9 PM again I’m out of steam.  I have trouble coming up with topics for the free-form columns on Mondays and Thursdays; I dread projects that require getting up on ladders or otherwise being in uncomfortable positions; and I find myself working more slowly in general.  This isn’t to say that I’m slacking off or anything, but I find myself getting started later, knocking off earlier, and feeling completely pooped by the time I sit down to write, which after my shower and all is usually between 8 and 8:30 PM.  So I’m really extra-glad I’m done with the roof; most of the projects I’m doing right now can be completed in about an afternoon, and that’s about all I can handle until the shorter September days begin to alleviate the extra summer anxiety.