Moby spent the morning wedged between the AC unit and the railing out on the balcony, basking. Or lurking. Could be both. So welcome, weather to keep the windows open and the fans off. Oh, and sunspots for a cat. Places to lean and stretch out and curl. Feline version of photosynthesis, turning light into cute.
Scattered ideas about what to write, nothing enough to be coherent, not jelling. Needs a bit more incubation time.
Perhaps I need to wash the windows.