Turning

Lingering clouds have dimmed the night and slowed the departure of day's heat once again. The few stars which penetrate the overcast are pale, the air stolid, and the dark leaves hang limp. Four o'clock, and I hear the car of Monday's first commuter. The wash of sound dissolves the serenity, then slowly recedes, leaving the darkness to the crickets once again. It seems a long while before the next car passes, but they will soon come more frequently. The northeast grows pale. Tonight, it has truly begun to smell like summer, with a strong scent of dry grass, sharpened by a hint of pine resin. It pleases me that the nights will soon grow perceptibly longer. The best days of the year have passed, but the best nights lie ahead.

Complaint

Sultry and muggy. Sultry is common enough, but muggy is rare here. I'm wondering how people who live in muggy climates manage to survive. How do they not just dissolve into pools of fatty sweat with floating bones? For a while, it felt as thought here might be a nice thunderstorm, but the clouds have undifferentiated themselves back into a mass of dense overcast of the sort which seldom produces rain.
I'm making iced tea. Maybe that will help.

I've also decided to make another appointment with the chiropractor for a week from tomorrow. I still feel fairly uncomfortable, but I don't know if it is merely lingering soreness from the previous adjustments, or if something is still out of place. A week ought to give me time to sort it out. In the meantime, I continue to not do anything strenuous or physically tedious, such as sitting at the computer too long. Just as well. Air conditioning doesn't go well with muggy days, so I'm letting Sluggo suffer the heat. He will rebel momentarily, I'm sure. I'm going to take my tea outdoors and see if I can catch a faint breeze.