Woke up to a downpour this morning — the kind of rain that makes you reconsider every life choice that led you to leave the house. Small mercy: my kid was already out the door for school before it really let loose. Timing, for once, worked in my favor.
Before the rain hit, though, the sky outside was thick with dragonflies. Dozens of them, darting around like they had somewhere urgent to be. I have no idea where they all went once the rain started — do dragonflies have a backup plan for monsoon-style downpours, or do they just take the hit?
There's a canal near my place that's basically a glorified drainage ditch, and I've started wondering if that's ground zero for the dragonfly population. It would make a certain grim sense — murky water, standing puddles, mosquito buffet. Bangkok's version of a nature reserve.
Which got me thinking: in Japan, dragonflies are an autumn thing — practically a seasonal cliché, right up there with red maple leaves. But Thailand doesn't really do autumn. It's hot season, rainy season, and a brief, smug "cool" season that barely qualifies. So do the dragonflies here even know it's supposed to be fall? Or is that entirely a Japanese seasonal hang-up that means nothing on this side of the Gulf of Thailand?
Lunch was yesterday's leftover chicken tomato stew — and honestly, it was better on day two. The tomato had another twelve hours to really soak into everything, which is one of the few genuine perks of eating leftovers in this country.
Then, out of nowhere, a wave of sleepiness hit. I fought it off with a strong pot of Earl Grey, which worked about as well as it usually does — meaning "sort of."
The rain had stopped by then, so I figured I'd step outside for a cigar. Except I was out. Normally I'd just order one through Grab and have it at my door in twenty minutes, but today I thought, eh, forget it. It adds up.
No idea what's happening for dinner yet. Still a mystery to me too.
On the work side: I do my Japan-market work as a location-independent nomad here, and right now it's smack in the middle of Silver Week back home, so things are dead quiet. Thursday and Friday are technically weekdays, but I'm fairly sure everyone's still off. Still — technically weekdays — so I went ahead and scheduled an email to a client for tomorrow. Sending it on an actual holiday felt wrong, but a weekday is a weekday, so I figured it's fine.
Scheduled send is genuinely one of my favorite small conveniences. Small win for the day.