The heat is on (nature’s, not central)

Debt ceilings and hacking and people being killed by their own government. Failing laptops and not enough food in the house and many broken elements that still need fixing in the flat. Irritations and annoyances and mildly irksome situations. Work to do and worries if people will get back to me and why can’t I do videos on this stupid computer. Only two clementines left and HSBC secure key is shit and really should tidy the flat one day.

See, I have plenty I could feasibly write about right now. Bigger problems and smaller problems and middling problems. Problems that are deeply personal, problems that aren’t. Some good things, too. Shocker, I know.

But I’m not going to. Why? Because I’ve spent all evening trying to concentrate on anything other than how bloody warm it is. I cannot concentrate. I’m almost sweating just from sitting still. Right now anything could be happening in the world or to me, myself and I but I just would not care. Because my hands feel like they’re baking. My head feels uncomfortable. My torso is made of lava.

I don’t even pretend to care that tiny amount I usually pretend to care when doing shitty non-entries like this, because I just want to not be warm.

Ah well. Going to stick the fan on that I’ve just remembered I own. Could have saved a lot of trouble this evening, it seems. DERP.

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