It's Sunny Here in Chicago and No One Knows What To Do
I don't know what to do. I'm at a loss. It's nearly 80 degrees Fahrenheit. It's Sunny. It's a Saturday in April. And I feel this immense pressure to be outside. And if I'm not outside I internally scold myself for not being outside. So, I go outside on my balcony to write. And I am immediately hit with strong winds and pollutant smells. And I'm uncomfortable. And unhappy.
The sign of a good relationship is a sore, slightly bruised pubic bone. (Heh, heh… bone…)