Thank the light, it's finally starting to cool down a bit here, weather-wise. It still gets a little warm for my blood during the day, but at least at night I can crank the AC down a notch, and I don't wake up wallowing in damp, sweat-encrusted bedsheets. Well, some nights I don't anyway, though last night was fairly brutal. Whoever said moving to the Arizona desert was a good idea needs to check in to rehab and kick the crack habit, because this place is the demons' hell.
I was sitting in traffic, parked on the miles-long parking lot that is the 101 freeway during rush hour this afternoon, entertaining myriad concerns and doubts about my sanity. I honestly don't know how long I'll last down here; winter will be okay, but come next summer I honestly don't think I'll be able to handle it. Not to mention, there are more people crammed into this single valley than in my entire home state. Perhaps 8 times as many, give or take. Back home, rush hour means that four cars pass the one stoplight in town every minute, rather than 2. Here, it means taking an hour and a half to go a measly 30 or 40 miles, packed onto a freeway in fender-to-fender traffic with a bunch of assholes. I hate cities.
Don't mind me, I'm just cranky.