Sparse sleep in my 30+ degree rental last night. Normally I'd've cooled it by opening windows but not at the #VeryHighRisk #AQHI rating we had yesterday. Sweating at 730 this morning. Now flooding my apartment with cool yet moderately risky air while we've got it.
The tradeoff? It's now 27 degrees in here. But ask me how my throat feels.
There's no good choices in stuff like this, just less bad ones.
Maybe tomorrow it will be better. Maybe it won't.
/END
Get back to the apartment & the campfire smell is undeniable. I mean, it *is* though, right? Close up all the windows & when one of the fans isn't working right you smash it. That's what gets your ire. Your angst. Mechanical devices that don't work right that you get to punch. /7
There was none of this during the morning bike ride & stair climb. I mean...right? Then it was me taking those big hulking gasps. Will I be able to ride the bike tomorrow morning, do you think? Do I push the weights around inside instead? Like to get that heart rate up though... /6
Back to the mission. Sunday. Pasta. #GameOfThrones spinoff. You scan the eyes of passersby on your way to and from the store. Sometimes there's a recognition. That we're living it. That
#ThisIsTheClimateEmergency
& we're fellow travellers in it. But maybe you imagine that too. /5
See somebody jogging along taking big hulking gasps of smoke particulate. Trying to stay fit. "Not like that you're not," you whisper softly, sadly, "quite the contrary." Definitely feeling something in the throat now. I mean...right? Can't be sure. The mind plays tricks /4