How sad is it that the most interesting thing to happen to me in the last week was probably getting those long-delayed LJ comment notifications? (This conceit is, by the way, but the merest of exaggerations.) I am experiencing the summer doldrums, and my only relief is the occasional unbidden flight of fancy, which inevitably comes to nothing. I waste away! During my tenure on this orb, it has been my experience that events of exciting and dramatic nature, either positive or negative, have been few, and tend to be clumped together, with, between them, long periods likely to induce ennui. This is due in part to my circumstances, but also due to my failure to seek out those exciting and dramatic events. I have ever suffered a propensity toward sloth, and thus expose myself to a life rich in monotony. Most of the time, I endure this consequence with equanimity, as it does have the advantage of providing more than the usual amount of time for repose. But now and then, repose pales. One can only repose so much before one grows sick of it.
All this is by way of saying I'd really like to go out and do something right now. I can't, therefore the night bites. Bites hard.
Screw it. I'm going to stand under the shower and pretend it's a waterfall in Hawaii.