I was going to get up very, very early and go for a hike – instead I woke up at 9, with the sun already beating on the shutters and heating up the room. I decided that, in view of the heatwave, I’d just stay indoors and be as unproductive and lazy as possible – seeing as I was all alone. Well, except for the dog. Out we went for a walk  that was shortened to just around the block and to the doggypoopyplace (sorry, probably more info than you wanted, right?).  Then back inside where I decided since I was being lazy I’d just strip the bed and do the sheets. So a load of laundry later, I’m hanging everything out on the balcony to dry (in 15 minutes – it’s pretty hot out there).  Then, oh well, the kitchen needed a good clean. And so I cleaned the kitchen. No big deal – the lazy day could wait a bit, and it wasn’t that bad – but when I finished I had the cleaning stuff out so might as well go do the bathrooms, right?  The bathrooms done, I noticed the pile of games on the dining room table, so off they went to the closet – and now I had to do the living room too, because it’s silly to have a clean house and a messy living room, dontcha think? Meanwhile it’s not getting any cooler, so I decide to mop, because when you mop the evaporation cools the place down nicely. I also had to write a happy birthday post on FB for my daughter, (ok, it took two minutes – but I’m looking forward to being a slug today and sitting down in front of the fan with something cool to drink). Auguste wanted me to play with him and throw his bottle to play fetch on the balcony. Once. Just Once. Or a couple more times, and then I notice the balcony is really a mess. Auguste is distracted by his new bottle, I quick pick up the old ones and throw them away, then dead-head the plants, water them, freak out over a spider that landed on my hand. Manage to stop shrieking, wave and tell the neighbor it’s nothing,  I’m fine. Just fine. Eeeeeeeeeeek.  Go inside and admire the clean house. Make a coffee. Put on Emerson Lake and Palmer’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Sit down and write this Ode to a Slothful Sunday.