![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
52/289-290: Two
Mar. 29th, 2026 06:18 pmSo little memory of Saturday remains in my mind that I don't know how unpleasant it was. I do suspect it was unpleasant, as most days now are, and I did a lot of sleeping, which I usually do on unpleasant days, but on a scale from mediocre to awful I couldn't say where it stood. Since it became Sunday, I guess Saturday's state no longer matters. I didn't have to go out today except to empty a trash can, there being no mail delivery on Sunday, and that alone made today better than Saturday. I refuse to think about tomorrow.
Well, refuse except to comment on the weather report, of course. Because the forecast has brought disappointment. The chill with possible afternoon showers we had expected has been cancelled, and it will be 79 degrees and merely cloudy. Worse, the 100% chance of rain previously predicted for Tuesday has also been canceled, though at least the high will be only 68. The rain has been postponed until Wednesday, and the chances have been reduced to 85%. Thursday is still predicted to be coolish, but next Friday we'll be back to the above-average temperatures. The much-diminished respite from the heat could (and probably will) be further eroded in upcoming forecasts. I hope we at least get our Wednesday rain.
There is nothing glamorous to any of this, or profound, or even significant. The days go by and I hobble or sleep through them, mucking about with fragments of lives, moments I've tasted, or observed from nearby or a distance, and none of it will ever be focused or made an artifact of any kind, painting or music or poem. Maybe I get through another summer or maybe I don't, and maybe the world goes on observing the seasons and stars and thoughts, and maybe it doesn't. In time... not too much I warrant... I'll be out of it and won't have to do this anymore. In the meantime, what I can't do I can sometimes find. and though it's no redemption at least I'm glad I can at least do this.
( Sunday Verse )
Well, refuse except to comment on the weather report, of course. Because the forecast has brought disappointment. The chill with possible afternoon showers we had expected has been cancelled, and it will be 79 degrees and merely cloudy. Worse, the 100% chance of rain previously predicted for Tuesday has also been canceled, though at least the high will be only 68. The rain has been postponed until Wednesday, and the chances have been reduced to 85%. Thursday is still predicted to be coolish, but next Friday we'll be back to the above-average temperatures. The much-diminished respite from the heat could (and probably will) be further eroded in upcoming forecasts. I hope we at least get our Wednesday rain.
There is nothing glamorous to any of this, or profound, or even significant. The days go by and I hobble or sleep through them, mucking about with fragments of lives, moments I've tasted, or observed from nearby or a distance, and none of it will ever be focused or made an artifact of any kind, painting or music or poem. Maybe I get through another summer or maybe I don't, and maybe the world goes on observing the seasons and stars and thoughts, and maybe it doesn't. In time... not too much I warrant... I'll be out of it and won't have to do this anymore. In the meantime, what I can't do I can sometimes find. and though it's no redemption at least I'm glad I can at least do this.
( Sunday Verse )
