The backs of my LEGS

I am sticking to the desk as I type, the top check carbon unpeels from my arm when I reach for the mouse. Outside today felt like wading through a large bowl of tepid, putrifying soup. I wonder when I wake up in the morning how little clothing I can wear and still be decent, if I need to worry about the blinds being open - we are so high up, and yet there are windows everywhere. Sitting here, in front of our portable heat-producer is the worst place in the entire apartment unless I am in the middle of foolishly baking brownies or making a roast. I realize the sadness of the fact that I am already melting at the first sign of summer humidity, with the temperature well below ninety today and the humidity as well. The coolness and dryness of California beckons me and I am ready to answer the call, winging west in a few days for a few weeks where these difficulties (humidity, laptop heat) and their solutions (air conditioning, ceiling fans) are absent. Where you don't start to sweat sitting at a bus stop in the shade. Where blogging will be painful again only for lack of words, not for the toll of heat impressed by the equipment. I almost wish the thunderstorms would knock the power out.