The minute turned into three hours of sleep. Lucky for the feral cats that I fed them early this evening. Not so lucky for me that I have to make my own dinner now— or that I didn't get the windows opened as soon as the air cooled off, and now the house is still ovenish, going on eleven o'clock.
If there was a restaurant nearby I'd just go out and get something. I really don't feel like cooking. Maybe this would be a good night for fruit salad. But I wish I hadn't put off buying popcorn. It's the perfect cross between breakfast and dinner.
