I am sitting on the upper deck of the ferry boat on my commute this morning; an oddity in Seattle. I'm relishing the fact that its 70 degrees at 9am, and will be warm when I get off work at 7pm. The sky is blue, the water still. Sometimes I think I'm the only person in Seattle who isa) not surprised by hot temperatures in the SUMMER b) actually likes hot temperatures.
Every summer, we get a few days in the 90's, which I soak in like a lizard lying on a hot rock. The rest of the year, it's dreary and drizzly, and we complain. In winter, there is ice and snow, and we complain. In spring, it's foggy and gray, and we complain. In summer, it's hot, and we complain. I think that here in Seattle we are spoiled, because sometimes we do get those picture perfect days in the 70's. Once you taste heaven, it's hard to get used to anything else.
I love the hot summer days, because right now, I am picturing the snowstorms and ice last December. I remember my gingerbread house blanketed with snow, driving my newscar 5 miles per hour on city streets, reporting about cars sliding down Seattle hills at 5am while I coughed up a lung and snorted snot. I remember fat snowflakes finding their way between my scarf and my neck. I remember my hands turning to ice inside my gloves. Those are not my ideas of a good time, people.
I love that it's summer, and that I get to use a fan in my house. I love that it still gets cool at night, unlike Texas that is sweltering and muggy. I love the baby robins stashed in thick brush outside my window. No, I don't want to hear stories about how everyone is staying cool, how AC units are flying off store shelves, how people are suffering. It's just a few hot days of summer, and it will all be over soon.
I'd be more impressed if it was over 105.
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