The thermometer on the bank next door to where I’m typing these words reads “104°.” Still, having grown up in a place where the summer has a smell (of rotting garbage) and the humidity kills the homeless, this really doesn’t feel hot to me. I still consider any day containing sunshine to be a “nice day,” and when my friends out here refer to “the last days of summer,” I find it, quite frankly, adorable.
So I’m working on a Saturday. Well, sort of. I’m “computer adjacent” on a Saturday, and that’s more than I’ve been for a few weeks now. Outside of my very busy work schedule, I’ve never felt more apathetic about doing anything, ever. It’s impossible to do anything. I can’t even edit the last two sentences, even though I expressed the exact same sentiment twice in a row. I am boring to know. Boring boring boring. Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
And I don’t even mean that in a bad way. I mean that in a “hey, it’s really sunny. Maybe we should go out and do something interesting, like go to a museum, or maybe we could…zzzzzzzz” kind of way. There’s this breakneck insanity I always feel just by virtue of living in New York. You New Yorkers know what I’ve talking about? Yeah, that doesn’t exist here at all.
In fact, here is the weather forecast for the next ten days in my zip code:
Sunday, August 28
Sunny, 93°/67°
Chance of rain: 0%
Monday, August 29
Sunny, 89°/63°
Chance of rain: 0%
Tuesday, August 30
Sunny, 83°/59°
Chance of rain: 0%
Wednesday, August 31
Sunny, 83°/58°
Chance of rain: 10%
Thursday, September 1
Sunny, 82°/58°
Chance of rain: 0%
Friday, September 2
Sunny, 84°/60°
Chance of rain: 0%
Saturday, September 3
Sunny, 85°/59°
Chance of rain: 0%
Sunday, September 4
Sunny, 86°/60°
Chance of rain: 0%
Monday, September 5
Sunny, 86°/61°
Chance of rain: 0%
What the fuck is up with the torrential forecast on Wednesday? Just kidding. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET ANYTHING DONE IN THIS WEATHER?
Take last Sunday. Last Sunday, I woke up, had brunch, went to the movies, came home, fell asleep watching baseball, and went out to play pool with some of my coworkers. And then proceeded to deem the day “too stressful for a Sunday.” TOO STRESSFUL FOR A SUNDAY. NAPPING. Was too stressful. I need someone to make me a t-shirt, and it has to have a green, heathered quality with yellow iron-on letters. And it has to have the sun rising over the state of California with the motto: “Los Angeles: Lobotomizing the ambitious since 2001.” And maybe me in a hammock with X’es where my eyes should be and my tongue hanging out of my mouth.
Pamie is sitting right next to me. I bet her entry is going to be SO DIFFERENT from mine.
Then my roommate in New York called to tell me our landlord was inexplicably not renewing our lease, so I don’t have an apartment in New York anymore. And I have to fly out there to get all of my shit out of there, like, over a random weekend before October 1. I’m sorry. Was I complaining about my life getting too boring?
Currently reading: nothing.