I'm hot. I don't mean sexy hot. I mean sweaty hot. And sweaty isn't sexy. I suppose it depends how you got sweaty. Generally, though, the line "my bollocks are baking" isn't used in the sweet art of generating that loving feeling. Nor is the word "generating" particularly romance-laden. I would even lay very little money on "engendering", "fostering" and "germinating". I digress.
I'm over temperature for myriad reasons. The change in the weather is one. The steady increase of my body fat is a second. Coming third, but with an honourable mention, there's the illness which has blighted me over the last week. I really need to get shot of this bug, since the week ahead has no gaps in it for relaxing in. I cancelled tonight's gig in order to create a gap, and even that has only had fringe benefits.
I think the cooking I did heated me up a bit, which isn't helping. The sunstroke from the weekend - she doesn't like that.
Who "she" is, is immaterial.
I had a tough day getting anything out of this tired and confused body today. I had a nice lunch, though. I also have resolved to somehow detox. I'm not quite sure how. I think I need to drink a few pints of water.
Tonight I could have done some work on the house, but I need to sleep. I'll catch up on the blog and other administrative duties and then it's time to rest.