This morning, Richie put the towel across the spring-loaded curtain rods in the sklight in the living room. Now it's nice and shady and when dusk falls, I just reach up with a pair of longish tongs and pull one side down. Next morning, up on the stepladder and put it back. Requires a bit of athleticism, but well worth it. It's at least a 10 degree drop in temperature.
Today I'll pack up the fall-winter clothes and install summer stuff in their place. I will be growling at some of my t-shirts. I hate the "clingy" look and even though I buy that type in XL, they're still not loose enough to satisfy me. I yank at the side seams, stretching it all the way to the bottom of the shirt before I struggle into one - to not much avail. Many of us have belly flop and remembering to stand tall and suck it in is wearying.
It's true that Southern California weather doesn't vary much and that we don't have four, distinct seasons like most of the rest of the country, but because of that, I think we notice our temperature differences more. I DO shiver when it's 60 degrees in February. Cue colder climate denizens to: start screaming in disbelief, roar with laughter or yell "Idiot! Try 32 below!" (Your choice of actions.)
If I ever discover a place that is roughly 72 year 'round, I'll send you a postcard.
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