It's hard to come up with anything remotely notable about this week; it's a lot of staying in bed 'til noon, working, acquiring hangovers. I have vague memories of a time when I had plans to accomplish things, but it's all fallen by the wayside this week. Hardly a non-stop party -- just nothing really going on, time trudging forward.
But all's not gloomy ponderances of squandered potential and opportunities. The hints of nice weather have become full-blown reality. Since a rather impressive 18-hour rainstorm the other day, the temperature's been hovering around 75-80, the skies have been clear. The humidity has lifted and in its place, the air seems very alive, crisp and full of long-forgotten scents. This is the payoff, after months of bitching about the heat -- two months or so of near-perfection, during which time I'll forget that Atlanta's weather is more properly defined by crushing summers and ugly winters. I'm just setting myself up for a rude awakening.