Closing Time

Chilling in front of the A/C after brunch on a patio at a lovely restaurant. I had the Canadian bacon eggs benny with cajun potatoes, coffee and a mimosa. The eggs benny were not the stuff of legend Stacy and I still cannot speak of without drool puddling in the corners of our mouths, but they were still pretty damn good, and the cajun potatoes were amazing, spicy, but not overpowering, just interesting. I like being on vacation!

The city is hot and sticky. Apparently it hadn't been before I arrived; jacket weather all along they say, but no more. There is still a breeze though. It's not the sweltering "lying naked and still on the floor with fans aimed at my head, my torso, and my feet, sweat trickling down the small of my back, too weak to open my eyes" kind of humidity I remember. That first summer I moved back to New Brunswick my mother and I were at war over windows; whether to leave them open (she) or keep them closed (me). I would lie on the couch in the living room wearing my Ryersonian sweatshirt and black leggings, rolled into a flannel blanket, insisting the wind was cold. She would sit on her rocker by the open window wearing shorts and a t-shirt, her face red with heat as her breasts grew damp. But it wasn't much of a war; her house after all. So I spent that first summer shivering in sweatshirts and jackets while everyone else complained about the humidity. Humidity?! What humidity?

Of course now I've acclimated to NB and I feel the humidity there again. I don't know whether it's grown worse or whether I've just grown less tolerant, but I find it can get pretty bad. As bad as what it is right here, right now.

I cannot get Leonard out of my head. I hear his voice and see his sway. He is sublime.

Mood: cooling
Drinking: nothing at the moment
Listening To: the hum of the a/c
Hair: frizzy from humidity