I must have a secret bad weather fetish. First I left beautiful heaven-on-earth Southern California for New York, the city of extremes. I remember melting into a puddle every August and freezing my tukkus off every January. I think I can remember every day when I actually thought it wasn't too hot or too cold or too anything else - that's because there were so few days like that. I enjoyed the place, though (something I didn't realize until after I left - Joni Mitchell was right)...
Now I find myself in London. There must be gold beneath the streets, or something else so powerful it makes people forget about the 300 rainy days a year, bad food and dislodged cobblestones that I swear are out to get me. The city has a lot of great aspects to it - I just hope I learn what they all are before my time here is up.
Trying to stay positive though... can't you tell?
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