Reset Forty-Three, Day Twenty-Two
Aug. 29th, 2022 06:21 amSunday brought another evening nap of about three hours, even though I'd slept at least six hours that morning. Dinner had to wait until after I got up, which was after one o'clock this morning. For some reason I just can't bring myself to do any cooking in the evenings anymore, even when I know what I'm going to cook. I was always the prince of procrastination, until I became the king. Now I appear to be the emperor. I wonder if I'll end up the god?
Utterly horrific news has appeared in the weather forecast. Next Sunday is to be 110 degrees, with a nocturnal low of 79, and this following a string of five increasingly hot days and nights, and followed by three more hot days and nights that
diminish only slowly. I had hoped we were done with such nonsense for the year, but I guess not. This is going to be the worst heat wave yet this summer: nine days of triple digit highs and eight nights in the seventies. I'll need to go out into that, too, as I need to visit the bank again. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to die first, and go to Hell, where the climate is more peasant.
I've been sitting here wondering if I should try to list the various ailments that have lately plagued me, but have decided that, no, it would be too long and complicated. I will mention that there have been a couple of incidents indicating that I might be sleepwalking. I haven't done that since I was a little kid, and the return of that affliction would be most distressingly unwelcome. There's nowhere to go around here.
I've also decided that when I die I don't want my life to flash before my eyes. I want it to be my fantasy life. It was so much more interesting, and far less stressful. Is that too much to ask?
Utterly horrific news has appeared in the weather forecast. Next Sunday is to be 110 degrees, with a nocturnal low of 79, and this following a string of five increasingly hot days and nights, and followed by three more hot days and nights that
diminish only slowly. I had hoped we were done with such nonsense for the year, but I guess not. This is going to be the worst heat wave yet this summer: nine days of triple digit highs and eight nights in the seventies. I'll need to go out into that, too, as I need to visit the bank again. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to die first, and go to Hell, where the climate is more peasant.
I've been sitting here wondering if I should try to list the various ailments that have lately plagued me, but have decided that, no, it would be too long and complicated. I will mention that there have been a couple of incidents indicating that I might be sleepwalking. I haven't done that since I was a little kid, and the return of that affliction would be most distressingly unwelcome. There's nowhere to go around here.
I've also decided that when I die I don't want my life to flash before my eyes. I want it to be my fantasy life. It was so much more interesting, and far less stressful. Is that too much to ask?