Despite our recent flurry of civic corruption which is starting to make Chicago look like Salt Lake City, San Diego is mostly known for its weather. Almost every day it’s seventy-two out with “night and morning clouds with clearing in the afternoon” as the weatherheads robotically intone every night on the local news. When I was in high school we used to make a point of going surfing on Christmas Day (this was back before the atheists took over and crucified Santa and we still allowed to celebrate Christmas) just so we could casually mention it to our relatives who lived back east.
Therefore when it gets cold here, well, we don’t handle it well. And by cold I mean the low to mid-forties. As three seperate people told me this morning, and I quote: “Jesus, it’s fucking cold out.”
I have to admit I was surprised when Sister Mary Margaret told me that. I mean, it was cold out, but it wasn’t that fucking cold.