It's humid. Humid in that way you feel like you're in a warm bath with your head underwater, breathing it in. This kind of weather makes everyone grumpy. Except those few annoying people who delight in cheerfully pointing out how much they looooove this kind of weather.
Everyone in my house is grumpy, including the cats.
We have AC in a couple of strategic rooms, but it's not enough for this level of moisture. It's the kind of moody weather that when an old friend sends your daughter Neil Gaiman's new book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, you use it as a happy excuse to lay under the ceiling fan and read it.
Your word this week, from this delicious piece of fiction, is: