Was that the sun that came out today for a few hours or just a hallucination?
It’s so pitiful to complain about weather but everyone else is whining, so it’s not just me. “Depressing” is the adjective of choice. Of course all one has to do is take BART to Pittsburg or some other end-of-line destination and slip out from under the cloud cover which, according to Carl Nolte in an article in the Chronicle at the end of July, can be 2,800 feet thick. Impressive. He noted how even in the supposedly sunny Mission, only 3 of 30 mornings in July didn’t start off fogbound. Now we’re well into August, and we are 0-for.
I wore my shade-making hat for a couple of hours. The temperature? Maybe 65, though the sun was hot, just like it used to be. I thought for a few minutes that the low-pressure trough had been shunted elsewhere. The sky was a pure blue. The sun king was restored.
Not quite. The fog is riding in, whipped on by the wind. Here, then, take this little mood elevator, a cartoon from last week’s New Yorker: dorky man to dorky woman seated at a bar, “Is it horny in here, or is it just me?”