I've just decided something. I'm going to stop treating San Francisco's fog like a cold, angry monster that comes to ruin my day. To be fair, I'll also have to stop acting as if each rare sunny day is my last day on earth, and I've just won the lottery.
This will be a little tricky. First of all, this means not hiding inside when it's foggy, but rolling off to the park and the beach instead. Second, it means talking about the fog like it's some precious gift. "How 'bout this weather, Bob? Sure is a beauty, huh?" This also means lots of wearing shorts and flippy-floppies in cold weather. I'll have to start quoting fake authors as having said "The warmest summer I ever saw was a summer in San Francisco."
It's tough not to hate the fog though. Not just because it's cold and dampening, but because it's so damn tricky. It's like some smart son-of-bitch who tries to lure you into his fog trap. Look outside, "Wow it's so sunny!" Go outside, "Oh it's warm today!" Throw on some stunnas and go to the beach. "Gotcha!!!" the fog exclaims as it consumes all warmth and sunlight.
Alas, fog horns don't scare away fog as I once believed they did. I guess I have to throw on my foglasses and carry on in the fog like it's just another sunny day in California.
