Last night's storms (it's actually July 29th) swept away the heavy, oppressive atmosphere, leaving the village bathed in the scent of pines drying in the sun. (I'm often tempted on days like these to ask the municipal council to change the village's name to “Airwick”.)
The temperature is a perfect 30º. A light breeze swishes through the trees. Bees are drowsily humming in the lavender, hibiscus, thyme and rosemary I planted in the garden that are my personal contribution to any village name-change. There's a languid riff by the occasional cicada, along with peaceful cooing of doves.
That hammock looks sorely tempting.
There's a universal law, an order known as dharma in Sanskrit, which rules that on days like today I have to be stuck in the office, translating an unutterably tedious and badly-written text.
So here I am.
Dharma? It is Murphy's law!:-)))