Reset Forty-Nine, Day Three Hundred Seventy-Three

Whether it is the intention of the heat to kill me outright is moot, but there can be no doubt that it is making me very sad. I only got up about three hours ago to eat some dinner, and now I'm ready to go back to sleep. In fact right now I'd say I'm unsleep, the way a zombie is undead. I'm walking comatose. Well, sitting comatose, because if I were to walk it's likely I'd fall right over, and those who fall right over are no fun. I'll have to walk to get back to the bed for which I long, of course, but I'll have my phone with me so if I do and I wakeup on the floor at some point I might be able to call someone for help, if the phone isn't broken or out of electricity, and I am sufficiently coherent to remember how to work the damned thing. And that's the sort of thing that is making me sad. Thanks, heat. Screw you.

Oh, and the first big northern California wildfire of the season is underway in San Joaquin County, between Stockton and the bay area. The wind is currently sending the smoke toward San Francisco, which is lucky for me. The last time I burned something while cooking, the smoke, though insufficient to set of the alarm, did mess with my lungs and make it quite unpleasant to breathe for some hours. I'm not sure I could survive another instance of dense wildfire smoke such as we've had here in the past. It's only a matter of time before we get another one. Thanks again, heat.