Slow Summer Day
Did some research this morning to see if maybe I could sell some of the things my, hubby and I have been saving for years. Things like old records, china, silver, old sewing patterns, stuff we haven’t looked at in years. We could make a few bucks while clearing out the house.
The job search today has been kind of lean today. Nothing new has popped up. There are a couple of government jobs I could apply for, but applying for a government job requires patience and I’m a little restless for that today.
It may sound as if I don’t have any motivation today, that’s because I don’t. It has all seeped from me. The outside temperature is reaching the level of the dark side of the sun. Even the poor dog doesn’t want to go out to relieve herself.
Before I came to Virginia more than 15 years ago I had a more romantic view of what summer in the south would be like. I had visions of porches and porch swings and everyone moving slowly. I suspect Harper Lee had a big influence on me to shape that impression.
“Maycomb was an old town, but it was a tired old town when I first knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on the sidewalks, the courthouse sagged in the square. Somehow, it was hotter then: a black dog suffered on a summer’s day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square. Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three-o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.
People moved slowly then. They ambled across the square, shuffled in and out of the stores around it, took their time about everything. A day was twenty-four hours long but seemed longer. There was no hurry, for there was nowhere to go, nothing to buy and no money to buy it with, nothing to see outside the boundaries of Maycomb County. But it was a time of vague optimism for some of the people: Maycomb County had recently been told that it had nothing to fear but fear itself. “ —To Kill a Mockingbird
Those two paragraphs say it all for today.