When the Title is Apt

Sometimes I can pretend that SF isn't all that bad. It has its charming and fantastic moments. And then we hit a week like this where it is persistently grey, foggy, and windy wherein my summer seasonal affective disorder (I'm joking, this isn't real...or is it?) kicks in and I want to slit my wrists. Where being at the beach house isn't even a cure all like it usually is and Maverick climbing in my lap doesn't make me feel any better.

I fucking hate the fog. And since I follow a whole bunch of Southerners on my twitter feed who are complaining about it being 90 with 90% humidity at 11 at night, I really hate it. I'd trade all those people in a heartbeat. I should have taken the Louisiana/Florida/Alabama bar and been unemployed in those states. I maintain I am one of the only incredibly wacky native San Franciscans who loathes SF's temperate weather and thrives in weather mostly found in Southern swamps.

(I was discussing with my dad recently the love of swampy weather, as I am also not a fan of dry Arizona heat (anyone who says, "But it's a dry heat!" can go fuck themselves. I will take the sauna of Southwest Louisiana over desert nose bleeds any day of the week) and my dad concurred. I did not realize I wasn't the only one in my family to feel so strongly about stepping outside and having that heat blast on your face and your makeup immediately turn into pools.)

Anyway, I have Death Cab for Cutie on repeat and feel all emo as shit.

I'm headed to San Diego on Thursday where the weather better be something to enjoy. This is a family trip. My mom, stepdad, brother, brother's girlfriend, and me. I was dreading this for awhile as I don't exactly get along with my brother, but...the girlfriend is a good buffer and my stepsis is driving down from Long Beach to meet me and engage in our usual shenanigans so it'll hopefully all work out. Beside: it's not here. And not being here makes it a vast improvement. Having my own beach adjacent hotel room and only needing to show up for family sanctioned meals/events should also make it enjoyable. I do love a good hotel room.

Now excuse me while I get to peruse more legal jobs I am not qualified for and ponder the poor life decision that was law school...