The past few months I’ve been whining about the cold. But now, summer is here and it’s beautiful. Hot and suffocating at times, but still beautiful. I’ve been living in the Bay Area for nine months now and I think I can write a book about the weather. There are days when it feels like I’m living in an oven and the nights are so hot that I wake up with my shirt stuck to my back.

Like right now I’m sitting with all the windows open and it feels like time has reached a standstill. The leaves aren’t moving, the air is hot and the tap water is lukewarm. Only the birds are chirping outside. How are the singing when it’s so hot? All I want to do is put the air conditioner on high and float away in to a sublime siesta. I would do that if it didn’t make a sound that would bring the house down. Damn, all I ever do is complain about the weather! I annoy myself sometimes.

I used to think the weather had a big effect on my moods but my present status brings that theory to a screeching halt. We have learned that sunshine outside does not equate to a sunshiney Zarine.