I have a terrible relationship with summer, which is to say I think it exists just to chew me up and spit me out. So, let me check me in so I don't romanticize this in hindsight
  1. 5.27. 2 weeks and 5 days in.
    It's hot. The second heat wave. I think it's supposed to break Tuesday. I am glad to have a three day weekend. But mostly I am tired of the heat and it is not even June yet.
  2. 6.3. 3 weeks and 4 days in.
    It's been cool enough for a few days now, which helps my mood. I worked 58 hours last week but only 40ish this week (so far). I have been spinning my wheels, upset that a grown man at work has been flirting with me. I made homemade hash rows, filled my gas tank, and went to the grocery store, post office, bank, and Starbucks all before 11 am today.
  3. 6.10. 4 weeks and 6 days (?) in
    It was mostly cool this week. The heat broke Tuesday night. It's raining now. It was an impossibly long week. I wrote two poems. I crawled into bed immediately after work every day. I cried all my make up away in my car in the office parking lot yesterday evening. I couldn't believe I had to trade a job in which I worked with my very best friends for a job in which makes me feel impossibly lonely. I am trying to be optimistic for the week to come.
  4. 6.25. 1000 years into summer.
    Another impossibly long week. In hindsight, I don't think I did anything right. I am like 6 weeks into this job and am sure I should be adjusted to it all but do not feel like I am. It's gotten hot again so I'm waiting for the heat to break, as usual. I should be eating less ice cream and drinking more water.
  5. 7.4.17
    Did what I do best today, pretended it wasn't a holiday.