It seems summer's started earlier than usual. We hoped the very hot temperatures (over 35C - which is 95F) at the end of May were just a freak heatwave, and sure enough it's a little cooler since then. 'Only' 32C or thereabouts. But it's getting sticky, too, and that's worse.
We're not ready for summer, however. Nor did we expect to have another summer in this house. Our one air conditioning unit isn't working - we had a lot of trouble with it last year, and the engineer who came several times did get it working, but said we probably need a new compressor. Which is almost the cost of an entire new unit, so there's not much point getting it mended for just a few weeks. Indeed, we'd probably have to wait at least a couple of weeks for a new compressor to be available, and the engineer is likely to be rushed off his feet with the early arrival of summer.
So my usual summer programme - so to speak - of spending about ten hours a day in the air conditioned room is impossible. We're going to need to spend the next few weeks packing, ready to move, anyway. But I don't do well in heat. Everything seems to take at least twice as long as it usually does, and I have little energy or motivation to do anything much.
The cats are having a hard time, too. They had started moulting in May, but when the temperatures went up ten degrees overnight, they weren't ready. We're combing them when they allow it, and fur seems to be flying all over the house, but they're very hot. Lying on the top of rattan bookcases, or outside on marble steps. At least I'm thankful I don't have to wear a fur coat in this weather.