(yeah, apparently I remembered that I have a blog … for today)
Boston wore a disguise today. It pretended to be San Francisco, and try on the natural air conditioner for size.
Of course, it wasn’t as beautiful.
Like on the hotter days, back in Berkeley, when I’d decide to pack the kids up for a quick jaunt to the beach, just to cross the bridge and see the fog rolling in, wisping down off the tips of the hills, realizing that if I hadn’t brought sweatshirts, the trip would have been a waste. But we knew what we were doing, and had not only bathing suits and sunscreen, but also sweatpants and sweatshirts.
No, it wasn’t that extreme in Boston today — there was actually no fog, just an ocean breeze — but it was a huge change in temperature. I had gone downstairs at 2, and even left the building (an absolute rarity between the hours of 8 a.m. and 6 p.m., I’m sad to report) so that I could stop by the bank and get a cashier’s check for the last step before our move in three weeks … it was sweltering. It was so hot, you felt like you were a chicken in a roasting pan. Despite the linen, despite the shorter sleeves – it was just. too. hot.
But when 4 p.m. struck, and I felt drowsy while reading a deposition that printed in a weird order, I rounded up some friends for an iced coffee at Starbucks (unfortunately convenient in the lobby downstairs … still no call to leave the building). But I’d seen that headline – 20 degree drop in 20 minutes? And I said, “let’s go see!”
It really was cooler. There was no sweat dripping down the butt cheeks. Not a single drop. It was still muggy and moist and nowhere near as seasonally disorienting as the S.F. fog had been. But we got to sit outside.
For all of 7 minutes before the Crackberries started buzzing and the twitching got to be too extreme to ignore as we started to imagine all the partners that were (of course not) ringing our phones off the hook wondering why the hell we weren’t working at 4:07 p.m.!!
I later enjoyed my walk to Boston’s South Station, the weather still mild. But by the time I got off the train a mere 3.5 miles away, I had left the little ocean-breeze-bubble, and the sweat returned.