The Longest Day of the Year

This weather is killing me. Sure, it says you can see the sun. But really, that just means that it isn't pitch black here. Those little suns, partially hidden by clouds, indicate that it isn't a perpetual midnight here, even if it might feel like it. That is all. It doesn't actually mean sun. As far as I know, there isn't a sun. There is just an oppressive light gray humming light, occasionally broken up by larger, darker, more well defined clouds.

It is June. The summer solstice. The longest day of the year. And it feels that way.

Sunshine. I want it. I need it like a hungry pug needs a treat. Coffee is no longer cutting it. (I've even switched to the real deal after drinking half-caf for several months, still to no effect.)

Maybe my doom and gloom comes from finishing this book this morning:

It wasn't a spirit lifter, that's for sure. But it was compulsively readable. A first person narrative of a year spent in Nazi concentration camps. It was so interesting how he describes how something that horrifying can happen in incremental, reasonable sounding steps. I suppose I had always pictured the camps as their totality, complete and terrifying all at once. I couldn't see past the furnaces and the gassings. But he tells the other stories of the camps, the hunger, the boredom, the random strangeness. The details are amazing and the way he deals with his return to Hungary after the war ends is fascinating. It was just so different from other books I've read on the subject and provided a new perspective for me.

Anyhow, it is a little gloomy here in the House Of Bean. I'm going to have a second cup of coffee and see if that helps.