On my doorstep I found a bag of plums, still seemingly warm from the sun. The waning days of summer always make my angry robot strongest, so I am trying hard to remember the things that I will miss instead of being impatient for crisp afternoons and tights and steamy evenings curled in bars. The angry robot likes how all of this sun hurts my eyes, likes how unhappy I am getting to all places red-faced and sweating.
And so I am trying, eating ice cream in shaded parts of the park and reading books on my balcony until sunset, trying to ignore these all reason sads and spend time only in happy doings. Trying to just plain make fewer mistakes until I at least figure out how to make new ones instead of the same old ones over and over again. I've got ambitious plans to cram the fall full of attitude and fashion and hijinks, but there's still so much summer to get through, and my angry robot is humming along.
Until the rains come back I'm looking for straws, for friendly bags of fruit and the warm evening sun on the soles of my feet, for new friends and new recipes. Until the rains come back I'll be waiting on the couch, watching James Bond movies and biding my time.
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