This Tuesday was gray. The rain has stopped, most of the snow has been cleared from the streets and melted from the roofs. It lies in patches like threadbare carpeting inexplicably laid out on lawns. The sky was the featureless, uniform gray of overcast that looks as though clouds have been subjected to some solvent which has destroyed their individual character. In short, it was a perfect Tuesday of blandness. Even the cold in the air was without snap or vigor; a mere clamminess, like that of a corpse. Well, let it rot! To hell with Tuesday, I say! It won't be missed.
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- rejectomorph (
flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind
Dullsday
This Tuesday was gray. The rain has stopped, most of the snow has been cleared from the streets and melted from the roofs. It lies in patches like threadbare carpeting inexplicably laid out on lawns. The sky was the featureless, uniform gray of overcast that looks as though clouds have been subjected to some solvent which has destroyed their individual character. In short, it was a perfect Tuesday of blandness. Even the cold in the air was without snap or vigor; a mere clamminess, like that of a corpse. Well, let it rot! To hell with Tuesday, I say! It won't be missed.
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Reset Forty-Three, Day Three
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Reset Forty-Three, Day Two
Sunday morning I got to sleep rather late, but only slept about four hours, matching the time I'd slept on Saturday night and earlier Sunday morning.…
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Reset Forty-Three, Day One
Somehow Saturday turned out tiring, even though I had orange juice and tea and donuts, and had fairly decent sleep and no difficult tasks. There was…
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