And so, the fog returns.
I don't know what it is about the fog here, but the cold cuts right through to the bone. I've been back from walking the dogs for over an hour and I still can't get warm.
I never considered myself someone who had a problem with cold weather. Easy to say, I know, for someone who's lived in California his whole life, but I used to ski extensively and I've shoveled my share of snow. I've spent February in Minneapolis and one memorable New Year's in Chicago where, with the wind chill, it was -39 degrees. OK, in that case, there was a lot of alcohol involved, which no doubt helped.
It must be age. Now I know why my parents insist on keeping their home a balmy 85 degrees all year long. Something to look forward to as we prepare to spend Thanksgiving with them. For the first time since we moved here, the boyfriend managed to get Friday off, so we'll actually be able to get away from here for four days, our longest break.
And not a moment too soon. This town just wears you down.
