Internal monologue: California, winter, 45F, night

For heaven’s sake, is there no climactic mercy in this world? I can’t feel my nose and my car’s blowing cold air at me. Why the hell did I move off the equator? At least when I in Singapore I didn’t have to spend a hundred dollars making sure I’m wearing enough layers to survive the cold. How do people live in Canada? Is being painfully nice a survival mechanism? Maybe I can learn something from the Canadians. And maybe the intense shivering will constitute exercise since all I seem to be doing is drinking 5000 calorie hot chocolates. Not that I ever regret a hot chocolate, I just — oooh, I should be making soup. This is perfect soup weather.

Internal monologue: California, winter, 72F, day

Aw, today’s a beautiful day! Thank god I don’t live on the equator anymore; it always feels like being punched in the face with a damp sandbag whenever I land in Singapore. Damn it, I shouldn’t be enjoying this weather. It’s 72 bloody degrees and it’s winter. We must be heading towards the post-apocalyptic-wasteland version of the future. Maybe I should start stockpiling water. Where the hell would I keep it? What about an emergency bag, in case the geological event that’s supposed to hit the Pacific Northwest actually crosses Sacramento and enters the Bay Area? How hard is it to sew my passport into my clothing?

Internal monologue: California, summer, 85F, day

All right, this is more like summer. Being at the beach in California is so nice — there’s a breeze, the water’s right there in case I feel like doing something ill advised, like getting wet and cold, and I have sunglasses. I can’t believe these wimps who complain about how hot it is. I know heat, okay? It’s the kind of heat that makes you take three showers a day and makes it difficult to go running outside. It is so amusing to hear people complain about being sunburned. Thankfully, with my skin type, I — wait, did I remember to wear sunscreen? Is that my sunscreen I’m smelling, or someone else’s? How did I get sunburned? I’m Indian!

Internal monologue: Portland, whenever


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