[Sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste]

As much as you can remember today in your senses.

Sweat, and the smell of bodies that were too warm before the AC kicked in.

The cool and warm of sheets, the smell of people -- two of them -- and two
cats.

The chlorine tones to the water in the shower, the sprinkles spreading over
my body.

The relentless playing, over and over, of the refrain of a parodied Beatles
song played on Car Talk as I got coffee this morning. My mind is happy to
torture me with these things.

The taste, the subtly balanced spices in Toni's soup; the charred bitter
flavor of the black mole sauce on my enchiladas at lunch. Chocolate. Too
much chocolate, and the hazelnuts in it have lost their flavor, just being a
hollow imitation of nuts of no particular kind.

The sun was bright coming out of the subway this morning.

The blast of the fans, cool breeze but overwhelming noise. The squeal of the
train as it rounds the too-tight curve at Harvard. I hear the Orange line
has developed the same problem now around Haymarket. Or so I hear of.

The smooth texture of the keys under my fingers, the familiar worn spots.

The rattle of the ice in my coffee cup, and the trickling sensation of the
liquid dripping off the bottom and down my hand.