What is UP with the wheather? It seems to have lost all concern and consideration for the humble mortal sitting at its doorstep. The air is thick and swollen. I could cut it up into nice, thick slices and blow candles on it for my birthday cake, really. That's how humid and clogged-up it is.
I cease to function in the head when the weather gets like that.My body works. The mechanics of complex cell division. My head doesnt. My MIND doesn't. It hikes up its skirts and pulls up its legs to sit down comfortably on a fence and watch me struggling to put two and two together.

I miss the wind.