When it’s really hot for days in a row, we can hear the house expanding in pops and creaks: the wood floor bloating in the humidity, rubbing up sweaty against the nails. I could handle the hottest day ever but the humidity makes me want to pass out and sleep until it’s over. I swear it’s been making me foggy-headed. Lately I’ve been a little socially demented, and either saying the wrong thing or blurting out something that is, well, lame. So I apologise to anyone to whom I’ve expressed something lame…though in my experience, people don’t generally notice these social gaffes, the ones that we agonize over internally. It would be nice if it would stop raining, and therefore be less humid, and as a result the gauze could be lifted from my brain. But it’s one of those summers, and it’s been raining steadily since April. Towns in Quebec are being flooded and washed away by rising waters. The only plus side for me is that I don’t have to water my garden. The plants love it: we already had a zucchini harvest and I see more on their way. And there are a lot of mushrooms sprouting up. Neptune and I like to point out mushrooms to each other when we go on walks to the park, though I enforce a strict “don’t ever touch them” policy. Mycologists must be ecstatic. Did you know that in Montreal, if you have a mushroom in your garden, you can bring it to the Botanical Gardens and they will identify it for you? I haven’t done it but I have this turd-like fungus growing in the front that I’ve been tempted to bring over. Fascinating, I know.