Trying to write in my small studio apartment is like trying to write in an oven... With hot water bottles (my cat and my computer) competing to sit on klmy lap.
It's sixty degrees here, but I'm in a fifth floor apartment with direct sunlight.
And I can't open the windows.
Some or you may find this ironic because two weeks ago I was complaining about my windows not closing.
Shut up.
My window is still open the two inches it wouldn't close, but that doesn't exactly help me get a breeze going. I chose a corner unit for the cross ventilation possibilities, damn it.
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