Oh, summer. Half the time I love it, love going to the farmers' markets and getting loads of fruit that we never get at home and going out in the sun and feeling everything so alive. And the other half I feel like a damp dishcloth that needs to be wrung out and I've got a pressure headache from the storms and I want to get out of this hot, stinking, noisy, dirty city. I know Aidan and I are going away in a couple of months, but I don't know if I can wait that long. And he's on patrol now, and then there's the Moon coming up... damn it all.
If I feel this cranky, though, I can't imagine how Marti must feel. Mother always told me it was terrible being pregnant in summer, and I believe her. Not like we can control these things, really, but still.