It is very tiring. I shall be driven to reclusivity. If that's a word. And even if it isn't. It sounds right. I wish people would not cry. I wish they would not say mean things, and would not be horrible, and would not cry. It is so tiring. And depressing, I suppose. And I wish something I wrote would turn out right. I guess it's just not the right season. Not hot enough to be languid, not wet enough to be puddly, not cold enough to be comfortable and blankety. Just dull, and too sunny, and depressingly dry. What God-awful weather. It's all because of global warning. And so, Doomsday Warnings OF Climate Change Have Not Been Greatly Exaggerated. Because I say so.