Fog

I have tried, honestly I have. But the next time someone who learns of our relatively recent relocation from New York to San Francisco tells me that I must love the weather here, I'm going to strangle him/her with his own Timberlake fleece vest. We are just over the fog line between Noe Valley and the Mission, where the sun often shines, and the ridiculously named Sunnyside, where the fog in summer just sits and sits like a malevolent gray brainsucking monster. It is cold. If I want to drive over to the bay-side, say, around Burlingame, there's sun. If I want to go downtown or to Potrero Hill, there is more likely to be sun. If I wanted to go to day camp in Orinda with Emphatic Girl, I'd be at a toasty 90 degrees most of the time. But here it has been gray for days, and even when it's not gray, it's cold. Windy. Not T-shirt weather, at least not if you're me and have sluggish circulation. And these days and days of grayness are wearing on me, to the point where I wonder if I'm developing Seasonal Affect Disorder.

I don't gotta love the weather. I have to put up with it, but that's a whole different thing. Pfui.