A few days ago I dug around until I found a pair of jeans. My shorts came off and jeans became de-rigior. Sweater, too. I haven’t resorted to socks yet, but I this morning the thought crossed my mind. A waterproof shell lies over the railing as I leave my house, ready to be slopped on.
My cat hates snow. Ground drenching rain runs a close second. She’s staying close to home and wanking loudly after every forced jaunt into the wetter-ness.
This is fall.
It makes you forget there will be winter and simply long for sun, an unbroken beach of white sand and a thatched hut selling rum drinks with names you could care less about.
And it’s only September 4th.
If this is fall, winter’s going to be a doozey in spite of the El Nino.
We can only hope.
