Saturday

Another 42-degree day. Wait, make that 45 according to the Bureau of Meteorology. I went for a wander down to Macro, to drink coffee and revel in A2 as I do on every Saturday I possibly can, and felt like I was in an oven. And then I remembered some lovely Fitz wisdom. (Yes, I know we've all wanted to smack him upside the head on at least one occasion, but he is, as you know, very wise all the same. Well, Nighteyes is, anyway.) Remember when he was walking up to Buckkeep in the rain and realised that he should stop contrasting it to warmth and heat? Same thing. It is only hot because I want to be cool. I should accept the heat as it is, as something that I cannot change, and simply exist in it. It actually worked. I was suddenly hot, yes, but perfectly accepting of it as an environment.

That lasted until the hot wind blew and actually pained my eyes. I was squinting out the heat, but it didn't work. My eyes actually felt too hot in my head, and that is not a good thing.

But it doesn't matter, this morning's ritual was a productive one, and I emerged from Macro with a dreamy expression on my face, because I am now full to the brim with resonating ideas and carefully constructed sentences.

I shall post.