Philly? Or San Diego? In Which Beck Questions the Weather and Tries to Enjoy Herself

It’s 65 degrees outside. On January 12.

This means that soon – probably within the next couple of weeks – the weather will turn hateful. It’s supposed to be in the 30s right now, not the 60s. This is Philly, not California.

I grew up in the metro Detroit area, and I am no stranger to nasty-ass winter weather. What I am a stranger to is 65 degrees in January when I’m not in Texas (I did live in Texas for a couple of years, which is like living in an oven).

What I do know is that when something strange happens like this, it’s a setup. Everyone is all, “ooooooh, I can go outside in a T shirt! Amazing!” and then when it goes down to 15 two weeks later, they cry.

Well, not me, Nature. I’m onto you. It’s a nice day outside, and that’s lovely, but I know what you’re up to. I know what’s coming. Global warming has made you angry, and you punish us. I get it.

Speaking of global warming, how about them Iranian assassinations? I hate everything.

At least I didn’t have to wear a coat today.

So I’m here at Higher Grounds to do some work. If you live in Philly and don’t mind being in Northern Liberties, you should go there. It’s a most excellent place, and it’s a very pre-Lululemon Northern Liberties-type establishment. None of the furniture matches. They have a lot of vegan desserts, if that’s your thing. They have many teas. They have coffee. I’ve come here on and off since we moved to Philly in 2013, and it’s always my favorite, even though it isn’t close to where I live anymore and I have to take the bus.

But whatever. The ambiance makes me happy. It puts me in the right mood to think about writing. The Write Mood™. Instead of global warming and the impending WWIII and Tangerine Buttface and his stupid, horrible decisions. Instead it’s Earl Gray and cookies.

So I guess it’s time to Write.


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