Journal On A Warm Night

It's hot. Dusk. Body says sleep--sun says not quite yet. Plus it's hot. I haven't turned on the fan--though I have gotten my clothes off.

It's not that hot. It'd be easy to sleep outside, and I'll probably fall asleep once I get the fan on.

I had a thought about my pale, squishy flesh and lifestyle and "adapted to" vs. "perfectly capable of" vs. "a result of." And, like, close-to-nudity outside, daytime vs. nighttime, or something. It's why I grabbed paper & pencil to start writing thoughts. But I forgot it.

Now I've gotten up to get a scrunchie for bed & turn on the fan & lie back down, even though I really should've put away laundry while I was up. I'm on an overworked person's side of the bed. I should be clearing off mine.