Notes From a Future Cat Lady

It's always a little dispiriting to look at the calendar and take note that the solstice has passed; the days are getting shorter again. Already. Neither do I like the way that time, or the way I perceive it, compresses with age. Have three years passed already since graduation, and have I really not moved an inch? I tend toward inertia something awful. If I don't get going I'll still be in this seat twenty years hence, squinting through borrowed contact lenses at, I don't know, Excel spreadsheet holograms, living on the same salary ill-adjusted for inflation, collecting cats and Fassbinder memorabilia in a hovel I wouldn't be able to afford if not for rent control. And that would be capital-L Lame.

The air is thick with smoke from faraway fires. The sky has a bizarre washed-out quality to it; the sun appears filtered through cheesecloth. Setting yesterday it was a dim crimson, like a red dwarf.

I don't remember what I was meaning to blog about but it wasn't this. I blame the lack of sleep. I'm too exhausted even to find myself tea. I don't think I've done a spot of work all day.