I apologize. I have nothing to show for myself today. If this is your first visit, dear god, skip ahead. This is no good first impression, no miraculous talent. Today, all I have is a diatribe.
It's been an exhausting, swampy day. The heat in this city is pressing down like a damp washcloth, smothering everything. My home has nearly-shot air conditioning, my car has none. I'm changing clothes at midday, sitting in the bathtub for hours at a time and hiding from everything in the dark of my house. I'm taking showers in the middle of the night when my bed is too hot for sleep.
Going out for work, being forced to be around people in this state rubs my nerves raw. I hear everything: phlegmy coughs and ringing phones and the sound of my cubemate's endless chip crunching. All I want to do is get home to my quiet and my dark.
And now that certain man-friend who wanted to go out for dinner is no longer such that kind of friend and so it goes. No stories to tell today, except the one where I am still spending time with people who are disinterested and distant and dull and hating myself and wishing I could just be by myself.
I'll be back at it tomorrow, I promise.
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