Better a roof-drumming rain to seal off our tiny enclave from energetic pursuits. Besides, the hummingbirds are not troubled by rain and they come right to the feeders outside the window. When my wine-sloshed eyes start blurring the type in my book, I shift my gaze to the busywork of the hummers, getting my vicarious exercise from watching the poor devils poke at one another and jockey to dominate the juice. As their whirring choreography lulls me into an even deeper state of ennui, I shuffle off to the bedroom and stretch out across the broad bed. Wine in the afternoon is perfect for reproducing the torpor of a steamy summer s day, without the sweat.
Eyes grow heavy and a dreamless sleep polishes off the day.