I know it's blasphemous, brings down ire from the better informed, but God damn the heat for its associated insect life. One more tick bite and hang me by my toes from the washing line, let the sun flay my flesh, and please permit Coyote to chew loudly on my bones at night, so that children might hear and never go outside.
The other pillars of God's ill humor in times of heat stress and drought are Creeping Grass and White Man's Foot. Oh certainly without them there wouldn't at this moment be that part of land some call "The Lawn." But, thank goodness, The Artist was able to catch and release the Lizard that has been hungrily pottering around the downstairs for the past couple of weeks.