Sweatin' Like James Gandolfini Over Here

It's been hot here. Not that ridiculously crazy that a lot of people should be complaining about it and all that, and that's only kind of what I'm going to do here. So while I know that it's been warm out, and there's exactly jack that I can do about it, there's a bit of a mental thing people need to remember when it comes to the weather.

See, unlike so many of you people out there who were born and raised in places where the sun comes out for more than about three weeks out of the year, I was raised in the Fog Belt of San Francisco. This means when the weather reaches much of anything over about 75, I start to wilt just a tad. So rather than explain why that is, I will explain how I react to it. See, much like the majestic kangaroo will dig itself down into a burrow and wait for the uncomfortable heat of the Australian Outback to subside, so does the native unreticulated Bill seek shelter from the sun, and avoid all activity unless absolutely possible when my fair city's weather reaches "warm" status. I would be so bold to believe that you, internet friends, already know that about me, since chances are if you're reading this right now, you have probably had some real-life interaction with me, and in the course of that you have probably invited me out for something in the afternoon on a warm day; and unless that something involves indoor air conditioning or maaaaaaybe ice cream, chances are I've given you either a well, well formulated excuse or I have just plain said "It's too goddamn hot for me to leave my basement." It's fine, it's regular, it's nothing personal, and I'll be more than happy to join you come sundown for some nice cool cocktails in the cool recumbent breeze of the evening time.

Somehow, not surprisingly to many, my family has not gained this understanding about the Bill in my 29 years on this planet. Somehow whenever it is too warm for me to wear pants, I manage to talk to one of my parents who encourages me to go outside and get some fresh air. Now, let me remind you of the assertion I have made in the past: I am not exactly the outdoorsy type. I don't go frolic in the sunshine. I don't go for a stroll when it's nice and sunny, and I sure as hell will not schedule one of my rare bouts of exercise for a day when it's 80-plus. Quite simply put, leaving the cool and relaxing embrace of my basement hovel, where I get no direct sunlight and can escape further into the garage for an extra ten to fifteen degree drop on a good day, does not sound like a good or fun idea to me. I know lots of people love to get out and get active on those rare sunny days in San Francisco, but this kid is not one of them. I'm much more inclined to go on a late night walk or hit my stationary bike when it's raining outside. Besides, is there really that much difference on a warm day between reading my book indoors and reading my book outdoors? Nope, didn't think so.

So, if you are one of those wonderful folks who enjoys a nice warm outdoorsy afternoon, I say bully for you! I will never stand in your way, and will only occasionally try to lure you from your self-improvement with a cold pitcher of beer somewhere we can sit outside, but all I ask is that you extend the same courtesy and understanding to those of us who are cold weather kids, and prefer to hide behind fans and cool beverages when the clouds aren't there to comfort us. Most of you do, and I love you for it.