Thursday, July 26, 2001
I am surprised how long it has taken me to learn something very important about San Francisco. Something that I would have found insightful before I moved here. The weather in San Francisco is like a Hydra that you can easily escape by car but which will always catch you on foot. One head of the Hydra is a baking sun, one is a phlegmatic fog, one is a whimsical rain. I realize now that I prefer the consistency of a single-headed evil, even though it may, on the surface, appear to offer more doom and more gloom. Today Patrick and I ate schwarmas at Yumma's and then shopped for groceries at Andronico's rather late in the evening. We were exhausted when we got home.