What am I supposed to write about when I have nothing to write about? When its a lazy day, and I’m just sitting on the couch watching my husband play Splinter Cell, while I randomly wander the Internet?
My mom came to stay with us this weekend. Really she didn’t come to see us but she came to see Neptune (don’t let’s beat around the bush). Anyway, she is staying in our guest room, which is where we have the air conditioner set up. And it is basically blasting because it manages to keep the whole house cool on super hot days (like yesterday was 32 degrees Celsius). So when my mom arrived, I told her she should turn it off when she goes to sleep. Assuming, of course, she would go to sleep around 10PM, when the night starts to cool down. But she didn’t sleep well the night before so she went to bed at 7:30PM, and by 10 the house was a totally uncomfortable, raging inferno. We opened all the windows and as I went to bed I had this feeling of being back at the apartment on ave. du Parc: that we’d let in the sounds from the street, hanging together with the hot, stiff air. I had trouble sleeping. It was a Seinfeld-esque moment. So I sighed loudly and attempting not to think about it. I fell asleep eventually, trying to finish the equally trying Final Fantasy III on my DS.
Natalia Yanchak 