Sweaty shirts, sticky sofa, series of showers to last me for days...The unexplainable burst of heat that tires me from mere vacant seatings of two minutes.
With temperature of three digits, I was flabbergasted by my sudden inquisitiveness to Italian cuisine. Along with the ridiculous urge for French and usage of its vocabulary.
It was quite a labor, with five steamy pots and pans, not contributing in lessening the heat whatsoever. However, after witnessing smiles and empty plates from what was to me, daring venture at les pates, the labor was magically inexistent.
After attempted Italian extraordinaire, I replayed missed episodes of soap opera, refilled glasses with h2O, and replaced closet attires, developing yet another routine.
Now I sit, still full, awaiting for the midnight snack prepared by the very hands of my mother.
How ironic. All I ever wished for was to keep that 9 PM sleep mark, and now that it's summer, I'm constantly typing away in hours way past midnight, wide-awake and nocturnal.
Tomorrow will be work, AC and smoothies will keep me satisfied for some good hours.
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