I should really be in bed.
But I would like to take a moment--just a moment-- to indulge myself in the following rant, having just read a lovely entry by Rania and her friend in New Zealand extolling the virtues of NZ's current weather, 75 F and dry.
Sigh: the way things were supposed to go, I should be in New Zealand right now. The weather would be fantastic there (is fantastic there) and I would not have to be dealing with the insane heat and humidity I dealt with today and will continue to deal with the next month. Don't get me wrong, I liked Sydney just fine. The Opera House was stunning. The bridge is formidable. I had a great conversation with an ex-milkman-turned-folk singer (more on that later.) But all of this would have been endlessly more pleasant if I didn't end the day feeling like a wrung out sponge. Alas, what could have been would have made so much more sense. There's only so much you can do in 35 C 85% humidity.
End rant. Maybe I'll feel better about this in the morning?