San Francisco: HVAC (Mostly) Optional
Aug. 24th, 2010 12:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aseSigns of the coming Apocalypse...
norabombay: how do you have more liqor [sic] than me?
ase: I LIVE WITH [R FULLNAME].
...or not.
I miss my fashion consultants' counterbalance to my clothing experiments. This lovely Ann Taylor button-down in my size would be one of the great Goodwill finds, if it weren't so green. With a dark jacket, it's fine, but San Francisco has decided it's summer after all, so jackets - heck, long sleeves - are off the menu until temperatures move back to something reasonable.
Speaking of weather... ninety degrees? Seriously? This is why I moved. Ninety is too hot to eat. I think today is an ideal day to appropriate a beach umbrella and collapsing chair, and read some cell bio with my feet in the sand.
I don't think of myself as a picky eater, especially when presented with a ham sandwich. However, after peeling off the cheese, scraping half the mayo into the compost, and tolerating the dubious mustard intrusion into the bread / lettuce / pig parts trinity, I am moved to question whether my definition of "picky" is in line with the common use.
norabombay: how do you have more liqor [sic] than me?ase: I LIVE WITH [R FULLNAME]. ...or not.
I miss my fashion consultants' counterbalance to my clothing experiments. This lovely Ann Taylor button-down in my size would be one of the great Goodwill finds, if it weren't so green. With a dark jacket, it's fine, but San Francisco has decided it's summer after all, so jackets - heck, long sleeves - are off the menu until temperatures move back to something reasonable.
Speaking of weather... ninety degrees? Seriously? This is why I moved. Ninety is too hot to eat. I think today is an ideal day to appropriate a beach umbrella and collapsing chair, and read some cell bio with my feet in the sand.
I don't think of myself as a picky eater, especially when presented with a ham sandwich. However, after peeling off the cheese, scraping half the mayo into the compost, and tolerating the dubious mustard intrusion into the bread / lettuce / pig parts trinity, I am moved to question whether my definition of "picky" is in line with the common use.
