A pinch of fair
A pinch of foul
And bad and good make best of all.
Beware the moderated soul
That climbs no fractional inch to fall.
Nonsense Rhymes
Elinor Wylie

To me that means perhaps there are others in this world who have runny egg yoke melded between the keys on their keyboard......

ghygghghgdfesddddddasdasssssasawewrtgiu2344523456789-weryuioqaweroytytr245678njh

And that's what you get when you try to get it out using wet Q-tips.

Once it reaches 70 degrees outside I tremble a bit when the sun starts beating through the windows.

Yes, I'm afraid it's another childhood trauma I need to let out of the closet.

It starts with my mother, who could only tolerate a temperature of 70 degrees, with no more than two degrees latitude in either direction.

And this before the days of air conditioners or even fans, which were considered a frivolous luxury.

My siblings and I spent summers in darkness unless we were outside, prisoners of "Shade Duty," which entailed pulling window shades up and down according to the movement of the sun.

"THE WEST SHADES! PULL THE WEST SHADES!" She'd cry out, as the light crept along the side of the fieldstone house, sinister, in search of vampires like us.

"Why are you always squinting," my friends would say when I came out to play.

Later in life, much later, my parents were the proud owners of a central air-conditioner and we lived all summer in flannel shirts, shivering under wool balnkets, but that's a whole 'nother story, which now that I think of it, coincides with my mother reaching age 50. Need I say more?

You don't think I could get away with telling you this story without confessing...
Especially with my sister watching.
Fine, I do it too, just not to that degree.

Blame it on ancestral memory.

Once the summer solstice hits I don't think my daughter pulls the shades up at all. :-D