Too Hot To Write

It's too hot today to write. It's 34 which isn't so hot in itself, but it is the first 34 degrees for the summer. So, it's tiring. I'm sweating. I can't think.

I've got a sweaty neck. I hate having a sweaty neck. It's probably bad posture, isn't it always bad posture?

I rode my bike today, twice. It was good weather for bike riding. T-shirt, shorts, the momentum of the bike through the air keeps you cool. Kind of keeps you cool. It is liberating though, just your own power to get you places.

I've got two cars which I never drive. Why the hell do I have two cars? I guess, if I don't drive them, it doesn't matter. I decided to sell one of them, just when the whole lock down thing happened, and then nobody could come and look at it. It has been such a long time since I have sold a car, you know, like advertised it. I'm not sure if I remember  how to do it?

I rode my bike to the shops. I took a recycle bag, I flung it over my shoulder. Well, I'm not sure if flung is the right term, I pushed the handle up my arm to my shoulder. What do you call that? I must go and have a basket put on the back of my bike, on the back of my mountain bike. I have a racer I use for exercise, and an old mountain bike I use to go to the shops. Someone gave it to me, a cute French boy who was going back... um... er leaving Melbourne. You can get those black baskets now a days, and if I had one like that I could do all my shopping on my bike. The burning of fossil fuels not required.

I should do my back exercises. I've had a sore back, and weird buzzing feet. I've been going to the Osteo and he thinks it could all be a pinched nerve in my lower back and he gave me back exercises to do, which, of course, I haven't done. Stupid to pay him all that money, I guess, and then not do the exercises. But that's just human nature, I guess. Especially stupid, since we know miracles are a figment of an over active imagination. 

It's late, the doors and windows are open and there is a bit of a breeze. The fan helps, of course. The fan could be the entire breeze? Maybe?

Sam is playing his Oculus Quest, he's got a new one, just got it. It is making exploding noises, he's cursing at, um, I don't know who? 

"Ah, stupid mice! There! That is what I want you to do!" 

I look at him quite unaware of me looking at him, I gaze at him for a time, kind of secretly, but not really. Just me and him. I like it being just me and him. I like gazing at him unaware.

The fan is whining in the corner. The air is thick. The night is still. The bulldogs are scattered across the floor like dead ducks, er, dogs.

It must be time for bed. I might need a shower before I go to bed, and I am strictly a shower in the morning kind of boy.

I did my back exercises.