Weather

It's a million degrees outside, give or take, with the humidity you'd expect to find at the bottom of a swimming pool. Going outside is like walking through viscous water, hot enough to startle you when you feel it. Going back inside is like walking into a fridge for a moment. Until you realize how nice it is.

Thunderstorms tonight. Here's hoping that breaks the heat, or at least the humidity.

Of course, our lovely environmental system at work keeps it a pleasant five degrees Kelvin in my cubicle, which only makes the outside temperature that much more of an unpleasant surprise.

A discussion of letter writing at work today reminded me that I've never really written a hand-written letter to anybody. By the time I was old enough to have people that I cared to communicate with, who weren't in easy reach, email had already put down deep roots. I can't really find it in myself to feel nostalgic about it, either. It's just unfortunate that we're temporarily adrift in an awkward phase of technological development; much more efficient and timely than hand written missives on paper, handled by government bureaucracy on fuel-intensive vehicles, but not yet at the point of seamless, convenient and free asynchronous verbal communication. Not that we couldn't, just that nobody really has yet.

Verbal IM, that's the next big thing. Just wait.

Dinner: Steak and Kidney pie that my lovely wife got me this weekend, with a Harp lager. Like all normal people (including many English people, I'm reliably informed), my wife can't abide the smell of kidney, so she had normal steak and mushroom pie. Mmmmm, pie.