We're still expecting a string of days with highs in the sixties and nights in the thirties, and the daily temperature whiplash is annoying as hell. The cool afternoons would make for pleasant walking, but I'm not going anywhere, and the plummet into nocturnal chill just makes me miserable. The thermometer says it's 71 degrees in here right now, but I'm still wrapped in a blanket on top of my two shirts and a hoodie, and feel cold. What the hell is that about?
Anyway, I can't write about anything but misery when I'm miserable, so I'm going to go get under the bed covers and try to read myself to sleep before the sun comes up. And I'm wearing those knit gloves to bed again, since my hands feel like ice. I hope they don't have to be amputated.