And so it begins. Fingers sticking to keys. Forearms sticking to desk. Waves of helpless frustration. Heat makes me even more childlike. Do I even want to trek out to therapy today? I had best find a parasol. And by the way, why did those ever go out of use.
I am by no means a sun-bunny. Inasmuch as I seek the light (in more than one way), I don't like overhead light, and that includes the sun at midday or late afternoon. That was one reason to leave Los Angeles, always too bright. And I do not refer to the denizens.
Every once in a while, there is a wave of cool breeze, which certainly helps. But it is only 10:50 in the morning and we all have miles to go before the heat breaks. The damp hair clinging to my neck begs the question of why I want to grow it out.
And so a bath before a retreat to the upstairs and fun with html editing, etc.
Tolerable, all in all. It will be sticky sleeping, but there is a breeze and I have three fans trained on me.
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