Lousy Sektober weather...
I hate this time of year. The next person who tells me how wonderful fall is because of the "crisp" weather and beautiful colors, is getting a faceful of phlegmy cough. I hate fall.
Yesterday I took the summer tires off the Miata, packed them away in plastic bags and stacked them in the basement. In there place the car now sits on the ugliest, steel wheels in existence, wrapped in the crappiest tires ever sold by Fleet Farm. The changing of the tires is a seasonal tradition; one of great joy and excitement in the spring and off sadness and dread in the fall.
To make matters worse I'm am now sick. Again. I usually never get sick but I managed to catch a nice pre-winter throat cold a few weeks ago. Just as things were pretty much all better, I went and got ambitious. Work in the garage yesterday along with a brief drive around town with the top down, and now I'm coughing and hacking like a guy who's unhealthy and coughing and hacking all the time.
So what, besides the illness and the putting-away of the Miata, do I hate about fall? It's the anticipation of things to come. In April or May when the weather takes a turn for the worse, it's comforting to know that it's only a brief set-back and things will get better soon. When things turn crappy in September or October though, there is no such comfort. Things will get much, much worse and stay that way for a long time before the weather gets nice again.
You might wonder why it is that, if I hate winter so much, I remain a resident of this climate. There are many details to that, but I think mainly it's fear. While I truly hate winter, there are simply too many scary things involved in packing up and moving the family to a completely different part of the country, or world for that matter. If money, employment, kids' schools, family-ties, etc. weren't of such importance, I think the Tuscan countryside would be a nice place to relocate to. Or maybe somewhere along the French or Spanish Medeteranian coast. Since I don't speak French, Spanish or Italian, I'd also settle for somewhere along the Oregon coast.
Yesterday I took the summer tires off the Miata, packed them away in plastic bags and stacked them in the basement. In there place the car now sits on the ugliest, steel wheels in existence, wrapped in the crappiest tires ever sold by Fleet Farm. The changing of the tires is a seasonal tradition; one of great joy and excitement in the spring and off sadness and dread in the fall.
To make matters worse I'm am now sick. Again. I usually never get sick but I managed to catch a nice pre-winter throat cold a few weeks ago. Just as things were pretty much all better, I went and got ambitious. Work in the garage yesterday along with a brief drive around town with the top down, and now I'm coughing and hacking like a guy who's unhealthy and coughing and hacking all the time.
So what, besides the illness and the putting-away of the Miata, do I hate about fall? It's the anticipation of things to come. In April or May when the weather takes a turn for the worse, it's comforting to know that it's only a brief set-back and things will get better soon. When things turn crappy in September or October though, there is no such comfort. Things will get much, much worse and stay that way for a long time before the weather gets nice again.
You might wonder why it is that, if I hate winter so much, I remain a resident of this climate. There are many details to that, but I think mainly it's fear. While I truly hate winter, there are simply too many scary things involved in packing up and moving the family to a completely different part of the country, or world for that matter. If money, employment, kids' schools, family-ties, etc. weren't of such importance, I think the Tuscan countryside would be a nice place to relocate to. Or maybe somewhere along the French or Spanish Medeteranian coast. Since I don't speak French, Spanish or Italian, I'd also settle for somewhere along the Oregon coast.