Dear John,
Pinterest is down. The world may end.
I had a good day at work. The excitement was caused by the demise of my microphone. I spent the last two hours having to shout back and forth through the open drawer. Having come from a long line of school teachers, my voice will easily carry through bullet-proof glass. Hearing my customers is another issue. They're going to try to get out and fix it in the morning. It can't be soon enough. I'm hoarse already.
I need to mow but I'm not going to. It was 90 when I got off work, still 80 now at bedtime. I will let the grass grow in peace until the heat and humidity break. As I said to Dallas today, we're just not twenty anymore. I don't know how that happened, but it did. If I mow in this, I'll flare for two weeks. It's not worth it. From the looks of the neighborhood, I'm not the only one who has made that decision.

It's bedtime and I'm starting to ramble, so it's time to turn out the light and miss you even more. Your little family loves you.
With all my heart,
Joan.
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