So the fucking heat has begun to aggravate my already-onerous, annoying symptoms noticeably and cloyingly. Sometimes I feel like Jean-Dominique Bauby, except not as communicative. Occasionally--especially in the afternoons--I wish that I could carry on conversations by blinking, or not at all. Ugh. I know now the full implications of the phrase "oppressive heat."
I am eagerly counting down the days of July--irrationally, as it turns out. It's still June. Who knew? Unfortunately, that speaking/typing program would not work, not the least of all because I cannot say what I want to write before I write it. This just does not happen; I don't function like that.
I'm getting cabin fever, though. I suppose I could venture out with one of those hat-fans, but a) I don't wear hats and b) if I did, I'd probably get one with a fake ponytail for my own amusement. And oh yeah--c) that would look ridiculous, like one of those Americans in Europe with a bright smile and a brighter fannypack.
Speaking of Bauby, this is my own brand of "locked-in syndrome."
R
