Someone. Anyone. Please. Mess with Texas. The thermostat is way, way too high. Way too high.

Perhaps the most troubling thing about thisĀ farcicalĀ peek into my life is that I don’t actually own a shirt that particular shade of blue at the moment. The rest of it is basically true. My Dearest really doesn’t give a shit what excuses I’m making, I really should be working more, and it really is the sort of hot that makes you think “Earth is a habitable planet, my ass.” Still. Through suffering, art.

Or, at the very least, a reasonable facsimile there of.