The air conditioner is up and running. Boy does it feel good. I will never take air conditioning for granted again. Going from a 90+F room to 77 is beautiful. If I wasn't so tired/hot in the living room, I'd pull out a simile. Like, a good, Romantic simile, found in Wordsworth or Blake. I miss reading poetry.

I am tempted to make up my own heat meter. Today (Friday? already?!), my underwear is only kinda sticking to my ass, so it's not too hot out today, but still hot enough to be kinda uncomfortable. Maybe tie in a fortune in there somewhere (you will find the perfect skirt at Macys?), and we're all set to go.

My New York entries are weird. I blame it on America.