Roasting and toasting today, no air-conditioning, just fans turned high. Tennis play was cut short this morning because of this infernal 100-degree weather. Beads of sweat quickly gather in every crevice of my heat-stricken form. We are wilted flowers under the southwestern sun.
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I got some material for a good sitcom episode, but that's about it.
After that, I simply accepted the fact that most people go online for conversation, and really, that's the reason I was there, too.
So yeah, boobs and journals. Go us.
But still, it's interesting to consider, occasionally, whether or not the person on the other end is really what they say they are.
Not that I'd ever know, anyway.