52/167-168: Over
Jul. 22nd, 2025 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphIt looks like I lost Monday. I was sure I'd done something, but I guess I didn't. I don't recall anything about it of course, other than it was unseasonably cool, as was today. Unseasonably cool in the central valley is not actually that cool though. I didn't need the air conditioner, as the sultry day could be expelled from the apartment early by simply opening the windows and turning on the HVAC fan. It's been getting down into the low seventies in here in the mornings, and I'm enjoying the hell out of that.
Oh, and I got the utility bill for late June, early July, and it was a mere $58 and change, though it would have just topped $62 without the remaining climate credit. This was the lowest summertime bill I've had since moving to the mini-metropolis, and so far this month is on track to be not much higher. That could change, of course, since the billing period has barely begun, and August is typically the hottest month of the year here. Still, I'm feeling almost optimistic— a nearly giddy state, just missing the mark due to the rest of my life being pretty much a pig's breakfast, and the state of the world in general being what I believe could rightly be called fecked six ways from Sunday.
My recent afternoons have been slept away, and I typically wake with a profound cluelessness as to what time of day, or even what day of the week, it is. This time of year the light that leaks through the blinds communicates little, the afternoon sun being so high in the sky or so far north that it cannot violate the shadow of the building's broad southern eaves. And my memory of the calendar's fluttering leaves has grown so frail that only the heat tells me the season, and the month is revealed only by careful thought. By October the strip of light I can use as a makeshift sundial will be back on the blinds, but the calendar? I'll still be clueless.
Oh, and Ozzy Osbourne died. Here's the song everybody will be linking to, and why should I be different? I'm just another old coot who has outlived another icon of his youth. RIP, Ozzy. You were a true stunner, bud.
Oh, and I got the utility bill for late June, early July, and it was a mere $58 and change, though it would have just topped $62 without the remaining climate credit. This was the lowest summertime bill I've had since moving to the mini-metropolis, and so far this month is on track to be not much higher. That could change, of course, since the billing period has barely begun, and August is typically the hottest month of the year here. Still, I'm feeling almost optimistic— a nearly giddy state, just missing the mark due to the rest of my life being pretty much a pig's breakfast, and the state of the world in general being what I believe could rightly be called fecked six ways from Sunday.
My recent afternoons have been slept away, and I typically wake with a profound cluelessness as to what time of day, or even what day of the week, it is. This time of year the light that leaks through the blinds communicates little, the afternoon sun being so high in the sky or so far north that it cannot violate the shadow of the building's broad southern eaves. And my memory of the calendar's fluttering leaves has grown so frail that only the heat tells me the season, and the month is revealed only by careful thought. By October the strip of light I can use as a makeshift sundial will be back on the blinds, but the calendar? I'll still be clueless.
Oh, and Ozzy Osbourne died. Here's the song everybody will be linking to, and why should I be different? I'm just another old coot who has outlived another icon of his youth. RIP, Ozzy. You were a true stunner, bud.
