Thursday might have been mild, but the Thursday one week hence is predicted to reach 109 degrees, followed by a nocturnal low of 75. That can only be described as hell. We are going to hell. In June. The summer solstice won't even have happened yet. Anticipating this event has unnerved me. I'm considering going into a coma for the middle of the week. I'm just glad I won't live another fifty years. By then, such days will probably show up anytime from March through October, and cities will likely have to shut down completely several days every summer. I feel bad about how thoroughly we've screwed the kids. I expect they'll piss on our graves, if they've got anything to drink and make piss with.
On a somewhat happier note, since I got to sleep before sunrise Thursday, and I'm about as tired now as I was then, odds are I'll get to sleep before dawn today. Perhaps I'll finish another chapter of the novel I'm reading first. Reading does seem to put me to sleep anymore. I can remember when I'd stay awake all night just to read more, and now reading even something that greatly interests me seems to just knock me out. Oh age, but that thy strange mutations make us hate thee....