Dawn has crept up on me again. I blame the perfume. I was digging through stacks of old stuff and came across magazines from ten years ago and more. Some of them had those perfume strips in them. They still smell, after all this time. But I have a suspicion that the perfume has altered with age, and now has soporific properties. (This is undoubtedly the result of some conspiracy perpetrated by the perfume manufacturers.) Inhaling it has altered my perception of time, so that I spent the entire night doing things in slow motion. A few minutes ago, I went out to look at the stars and found that the sky had already turned pale. The birds must be in on the conspiracy. They are all laughing at me.
Despite having had the windows open and the fan on, the house still holds much of yesterday's heat. A few nights ago I slept under five blankets. Now I will be down to one, and might find even that too warm. Poor Sluggo has been having a hard time of it, too. If today is as warm as yesterday, I doubt he'll be able to work more than a few minutes this afternoon, and maybe an hour or so later tonight. I can almost hear his CPU popping and crackling now. When I get a new computer, I might try using Sluggo as a hotplate.