As Mundane as the Weather Is

Today, I saw an outdoor thermometer read fifty-three degrees.

This might be a very boring blog entry if I did not describe exactly what happened. I became light in my foot steps, warm in my chest and absolutely happy. I experienced the relief one feels after someone finally closes an awful open window or pulls out a thick splinter, the size of a plank.

This might peg me as some sort of shallow person with a small inner life with an over developed sense of need for bodily comfort. So be it.

I know an actor who lives in New York City because he loves it and wants to raise his children here—but because he is in high demand he needs to travel frequently so whenever Los Angeles calls, he simply jumps on a plane and goes there. For auditions, what have you. It is worth the sacrifice for him. He needs the culture of New York City. Plus, he seems a bit of an old fashioned man-o-the-tribe. He says, “You can’t live somewhere just for the weather.”

He is wrong.

You can live somewhere for almost anything. Heat. Boat shows. Pussy.

Friends.

You name it.