Heat makes me slothful, so this is a lazy post

I thought that the Tour de France would help to ease the pain of England's heartbreaking exit from the World Cup (I drew Brazil in the office sweepstakes much to everyone's envy, and even that didn't pan out!). But then Jan Ullrich, the cyclist I hoped to see win this year (and with whom I have felt kinship ever since the press started making fun of him for his struggle to keep his weight down in the off-season), was removed from the race due to a blood doping enquiry. Sigh.

It has been 30 degrees here for the past few days, and the sound of the fan ineffectually blowing stale air around the bedroom brings back memories of childhood, back in the dark ages before my parents realized that humidity makes teenagers even more unpleasant than usual. I've never liked sleeping with a fan ... the wind and the dull roar make me feel like I'm trying to catch forty winks in an airplane hangar. But we don't want to leave screenless ground-floor windows open overnight. I am already compiling a list of strange places I've found spiders, for example, inside my bag of cotton face wipes when I went to pull one out tonight. I'd prefer not to add my nostrils to that list by inviting insects in while I slumber. (A coworker just told me a truly horrifying story about staying in a squat in Australia and stuffing her ears and nostrils with tissue before going to sleep every night to keep the cockroaches out. I now console myself with the thought that it can, indeed, get worse.)

As you can tell, I haven't done anything out of the ordinary lately. But one lovely lady has ... Jessica has her first, but most certainly not last, book out. If any of you are in Toronto, her readings are also fantastic.
Those Girls