I almost forgot to do this today. 52 minutes left of Saturday; just enough time to post something. It will be brief because I'm very tired.
As much as I love summer, summer nights, especially summer nights that follow my favorite kind of sultry, humid day, have a quality that I don't like. Artificial light seems much harsher on a summer night than on a winter night, and there always seems to be a lone mosquito buzzing around. Maybe it's because I don't want to be inside that inside seems dreary and ugly. This very room that I'm sitting in, which seems dingy and unwelcoming right now, is actually very cozy and pleasant on a winter night, or even on a cold, reluctant spring night. The furniture and rug in this room seem more suited to winter. Maybe I should redecorate each season.
Well, that was apropos of nothing. Still, it's a paragraph on a page at 11:18 PM; now 42 minutes from the end of the day; a day on which I did manage to write something. I don't hear any mosquitoes. Time for bed.
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