Humid.

.

.

It is 80 outside, the low 70s upstairs, the mid 70s downstairs, but it feels humid.  It only reads 55% in here, but it feels 80.  Even upstairs was a bit sticky.  Definitely in the monsoon season, and deep in it.  I don't remember this, from before.  Though, usually, by this time of year, I am absolutely fried.  I am so beyond exhaustion that humid and a bit cooler is so much better, and yet I am in such bad shape, that I can't see the humidity itself.

I can't be sure when I went to bed.  At all.  I looked, down here and up there.  It just didn't track, stick in memory.  All good.  I, currently, am just sleeping when that is possible, as I am able, and for long as I can, to be honest.  Little reason to be up.  I have something I need to do, and have been pushing toward it.  But, so far, no.  There is always tomorrow, until there isn't.

A few more packages, but the screw driver set didn't arrive, or get returned.  Whoever it was delivered to must have liked it enough to just keep it.  I'll have to get a replacement shipped, hoping I don't have to deal with too much bs.  I applied yesterday, they told me I had to wait.  But they know this package wasn't delivered correctly.  They track them that well, these days.  They used to take a picture, showing it was on my porch or near the back door.  They have slashed workers, don't have that kind of time.

I turned a couple of fans on.  It is helping with the humidity.  Turns it from sticky to cooling.  A bit.  It'll be a while before it cools enough to do much.  So, for now, I get  to sit, read, research, and relax.  Later.