tsuyu
The weather agency says the rainy season started in Kanto today. Tsuyu, plum rain. It means six weeks of laundry hanging indoors, and the whole room smelling of damp cotton.
The oshiire door sticks now. It swelled.
The kettle has been full in the morning four times. I've started keeping a tally on the fridge, in pen, with dates. I empty it every night now, on purpose, and I say "empty" out loud, so I'll remember.
Bea's opinion, by message from Perth, where it's winter and she's wearing ugg boots: I'm grieving the relationship and I'm sleepwalking.
It's possible. Daisuke used to say I made tea in my sleep. He meant it as a joke about how much tea I drink. I don't think it was literal. I could ask him, but I'm not going to.
Friday, home day. I translated forty claims about a folding umbrella mechanism and watched the rain on the balcony do the opposite of what the claims describe.