Heat wave! No clouds! Summer! Time!

I went running last night at sunset, that was the first time all day it was cool enough to even consider anything vaguely exertion-y. What a tragic sentence construction that was. Okay, brilliant: orange juice pops with a raspberry in them. I am such a genius. Or something. I want to make yogurt pops, but I'm afraid if I mix it up with the oj I'll just get curdled-gross-pops. MMM, CURDLED DAIRY.

So this morning I'm a bit manic. Pleasant change! I had a four hour nap yesterday and then slept 5 hours last night, so for the first time all week I'm feeling perky. I think I'll have another nap when I get home and then I'll be set to stay up until well past sunset, and perhaps ride my bike around in the nice cool dark.

Man, all winter long I pine for sunlight, and now when it's here I'm frantically making plans to avoid it.

Feel like painting or something, imposing random colour on my apartment. It's all white and it reminds me of the sensory stimulation room at the mental asylum we lived at on Katimavik. This is much less sordid and bizarre than that sentence seems to imply. We lived in a building on the grounds that they weren't using anymore. It was less of an asylum and more a residential spot for non-dangerous people with congenital mental health issues - retardation vs. psychosis, y'know? And anyway, there was this one room especially for people who were very low-functionning, who couldn't really communicate or understand what was going on. It was a soft white everywhere with lots of cushions and it was full of things to engage the senses - colourful toys, glowing fibre-optic lights, big headphones you could listen to interesting sounds on, things with all different textures. The minister who worked there was telling us that the goal was to interact with these people at a really basic sensual level - they would never be able to talk or write or feed themselves, but they could still get this enjoyment out of life, still be engaged by their environment. It was the coolest thing. Anyway, my blank white apartment kind of takes me there sometimes and I feel like fingerpainting to amuse boy and I, the mental patients.

I'm glad it's friday. I like my new job, but it's very intense. They're so, so busy over there. I spend my mornings doing nothing, basically, and then plunge in to a sea of tasks I couldn't possibly finish, all during the afternoon when my brain is thinking "nap nap nap." It's a bit like going from work to school every day and so it's a bit more exhausting. Well anyway. Now it's friday.