The impossibility of a siesta

Summer is harrowing in Madrid for those who cannot bear the heat. H.P. Lovecraft got sick when the temperature went under 22 ºC, in my case it's just the opposite, when we are over 28 ºC my blood pressure sinks, cannot eat, cannot sleep during the night –since past Wednesday the lowest temperature we've reached here is 24 ºC in the small hours. Making siesta isn't so easy when you've to work in different jobs and try to pass exams in September. But when we're having a heat wave I'm a very busy zombie till 4 PM, then I TRY to sleep a bit in the drawing-room where there is AC.

But it's utterly impossible, impossible, oh, because the guy in the pic, Clyde, jumps in the couch in the very moment I lie on it and insists on demonstrating all his loving to me caressing my face with his paw and tickling it all over with these Cossack whiskers of him. Clyde don't mind the high temperatures, lucky казак мой!!