TV weather at the gym this morning predicted humid until Thursday. :(
I was complaining to Katie, "Why is it only going to get nice just as I'm leaving town?" She pointed out that it's probably a good thing I didn't go to Maine this weekend that just ended [see, e.g., Bloomberg].
But when I got home from dinner tonight, the front door was open, because my housemate had decided it had cooled off enough that we could have fresh air and fans rather than AC. So that's good.
I'm still making my way through the 50books_poc archives, and I was intrigued by Confessions of a Mask by Yukio Mishima, so I plugged it into GoodReads, and the description begins "Inspired by historical events, this powerful book is the story of the monk who burned the Temple of the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto," and I thought, "Hey!" because this weekend while I had no energy for anything I finally started reading Palimpsest (which sadly is not as amazing as I had hoped it would be) and there's a part about the Golden Pavilion -- "It had burned in the fifties, the whole thing. A monk had been obsessed with it, had loved it, and had set it on fire one cold night. He had wanted to burn with it, but the smoke was not enough, and he outlived the object of his adoration. When they learned about him in school, Sei thought that she understood him, the need to be rid of a thing, and also to scream with it and in it and breathe it until you choke" (p. 100).