It's hot here. Like really, really hot. And smokey. In fact, when I look East out of the kitchen windows, I can clearly see the smoke is trying to pass itself off as a low-lying, morning fog covering the sidewalks. But, I am not so easily fooled. When I look out of my bedroom windows, where there once stood tree-covered foothills, there is nothing but dense, brownish smoke.
The heat and the smoke are taking their toll on me...I haven't managed to get a good night's sleep in too many days and my exhaustion levels have hit their max: I'm tired, cranky and have hit that point where a good cry seems like it would solve everything. It wont, by the way, but it would feel damn good!
Rather than sit and wallow in my exhaustion, I've poured myself a giant cup of coffee, grabbed a yogurt from the fridge, and put The Lake House on. I need a little dose of Chicago (and Keanu Reeves) to combat my bad mood, and it's working. Being able to recognize the statue in the Daily Plaza where Sandra Bullock wtinesses Keanu's accident, and the building on Michigan Avenue where Keanu's father works makes me smile.
Sometimes a little Hollywood romance combined with memory lane wandering is just what the doctor ordered.