I almost had a good day today. Or at least a not-bad day. Actual good days have become extremely scarce, the last few years. I tend to hope for not-bad days. They rarely arrive. It was very hot in the apartment last night and this morning. I actually had trouble getting to sleep, the bedroom was so hot. But even though I was admittedly uncomfortable, I was psychologically eased by the heat. This is June. June is supposed to be hot. We sweat in June.

Today, the weather took some weird nosedive I can't even figure out. Still hottish in the apartment, low eighties F in the middle parlor, but I stepped outside a couple of hours ago to go to the market, and the air was goddamn chilly. Kathryn said it hadn't been earlier in the day. What the fuck is that? It hadn't rained, though there were some clouds. I was actually uncomfortably cool outside. Then back into the house, where the humidity is 500%.

Anyway...

I tried to begin a story today. "Far From Any Shore." I didn't get far.

Climate Dysphoric,
Aunt Beast