y world is a white hot inferno. I can devise no better way to describe it. Words like "scorching" and "blazing" simply wither in the oppressive heat. It's as if Hell itself has cracked wide open and is spilling across the land.

I'm not talking about the ceaseless succession of wildfires burning up both sides of the valley. I'm not talking about it still being 98 degrees when I leave the office. Or how it's 198 degrees in my car. Those are small potatoes.

No, I'm talking about all the evenings and weekends spent digging trenches and laying miles of sprinkler pipe in my yard, toiling under the broiler of the summer sun. But if all goes to plan, I'll finish up, including fixing a couple of rookie mistakes, just in time for the family July 4th picnic. Of course, that's also going to be out in the sun. (sigh)

Continued...