September 6th. Labor Day has come and gone, signaling the end of summer. Or, at least the end of white shoes. As if. I'm calling it anyway. End of summer. Because of all the suckass summers I've spent in this desert, this was the suckassiest. I curled myself up into a little ball. Then I rolled on the floor. Back and forth, up and down, side to side, for a few months. It sort of feels that way. But I figured some things out too. Some of the things I figured out were worth the effort.
Possibly it's time to let Poppet do the talking. I'm preoccupied, thinking, which is significantly better than rolling.
Summer is over for me because I say it is. I'm not up, but awake, before the alarm.