"the heat was hot"

Remember that terrible song "Horse with No Name" by America? It contains one of the single worst lines of a song ever written:

"The heat was hot and the ground was dry"

The heat was hot? Really. I'll let someone who actually knows something about poetry comment on that one. (Stella?)

Heat is not something one experiences much in San Francisco. It's generally very mild here, consistently 4-8 degrees cooler than our old place across the bay in Berkeley. And we live in the Outer Richmond, which is milder than the rest of San Francisco, being right up against that frigid Pacific Ocean.

But today it is a different story. It's hot. Hot enough to make me think things like "the heat was hot". Of course it could be this massive head cold that has reduced my thought process to the equivalent of bad America lyrics. But it's still damn hot. Even in the Outer Richmond.

How hot you ask? I'm glad you asked. Since I have this miserable cold and it was too hot for me to sleep, I had nothing better to do than lay around and watch the thermometer. It peaked at 100.6 degrees Fahrenheit. I'm sure it set some records. The average high in May is 65.

The past few weeks, as spring blossoms in our old home town of Ann Arbor, Stella and I have been lamenting the mild temperatures of San Francisco. We have been missing hot weather since we moved here. Well, today we got it. And I'm laid out with a cold, unable to enjoy it. I should have been at the beach. It would have been a perfect day for those surfing lessons I've been thinking of taking. Instead I've got a terrible cold that kept me up half of last night. Oh well... it will still be nice this weekend and I fully intend to enjoy it, cold or no cold.