The weekend produced two big blisters that are now oozing and complete lack of self-esteem. I guess this last thing isn't something that was produced in the traditional sense of the word, but it's what came out of the weekend so I guess the lack of self-esteem was the coagulated natant of the last 2 1/2 days (since the weekend starts Friday afternoon).
This is also the time of year where I tend to forget that the 50 degree high during that one hour in the afternoon doesn't mean that it'll stay warm in the evening after I've left the windows and door open a little too long. I suddenly become chilled and have to resort to donning the long underwear at bedtime and cranking the thermostat up to 70 degrees. Why is it that two months ago I would have been roasting with this type of night-time temperature but now find it unbearable? It's my mind. I wish it would stop working against me.
On a completely unrelated note, Jill Bernard's Small Book of Improv is highly recommended. I keep it on my kitchen table and read it just about every day. The Daleks intrigue me. If you have eight extra dollars, you should get one. Have it mailed because she'll draw a customized drawing on your envelope. I ripped mine out and it is now serving as the bookmark in the event that I'm not able to finish the book in one sitting.
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