52/162: The Last Fry
Jul. 14th, 2025 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphMonday brought the last triple-digit high in the forecast for... two weeks?!! And the nights after tonight will all bottom out in the mid-to low sixties. It sounds like something close to relief. Those coolish nights might actually chill the place enough that I won't need to use the air conditioner the next mildish day, or will need it very little. And I'm thinking this month's utility bill might remain below a hundred bucks. Now next month's is apparently going to start out very promising as well. Is this too much good luck? Am I tempting fate? Tempting fate can be very risky, especially when you're as hot as I am, because fate might not be able to resist screwing you. Fate is sort of the Jeffery Epstein of superstitions.
Anyway, I'm going to fix some dinner again tonight, if I can get my act together. At the moment my butt is glued to this chair with a big gob of lethargy (this sounds worse than it is.) If I were seriously hungry it would be easier to move, but I snacked on ice cream a while ago and am barely peckish. The next while will be a race between hunger and sleepiness. I'll end up either eating or hitting the hay. If I were a horse those would be the same thing, but being human my life is not that simple. I must make choice after choice, decision after decision, until I fall down dead from either exhaustion or obesity. Strike that. I can also drink, so either exhaustion, obesity, or alcoholism. The latter would be easiest, I think, so I might give it some consideration.
My brain is fried, I must give myself a cease and deist order. Maybe I can write more tomorrow, when it will be a bit cooler. My brain will probably be only mush by then, not fried mush. I'll put butter and cinnamon sugar on it, it will be fine.
Anyway, I'm going to fix some dinner again tonight, if I can get my act together. At the moment my butt is glued to this chair with a big gob of lethargy (this sounds worse than it is.) If I were seriously hungry it would be easier to move, but I snacked on ice cream a while ago and am barely peckish. The next while will be a race between hunger and sleepiness. I'll end up either eating or hitting the hay. If I were a horse those would be the same thing, but being human my life is not that simple. I must make choice after choice, decision after decision, until I fall down dead from either exhaustion or obesity. Strike that. I can also drink, so either exhaustion, obesity, or alcoholism. The latter would be easiest, I think, so I might give it some consideration.
My brain is fried, I must give myself a cease and deist order. Maybe I can write more tomorrow, when it will be a bit cooler. My brain will probably be only mush by then, not fried mush. I'll put butter and cinnamon sugar on it, it will be fine.
