I think Punxsutawney Phil, if he lived in San Diego, would've said, "Not only do I not see my shadow, the concrete seems to be on fire." That was outside my apartment this morning--note the time as well as the temperature, 100 Fahrenheit before even 10am. February. It cooled to 82 when I drove two blocks which makes me glad I'm moving to a cooler part of town.
I'm going to be pretty busy to-night and to-morrow moving stuff to my new apartment, a two bedroom place in the building where my brother-in-law is landlord. So far this potato is my only room mate.
A sweet potato, actually, and she's not coming through with her part of the rent. So I need to find a humanoid room mate which shouldn't be too hard considering, having just been looking at apartments, I know they seem to be pretty scarce in San Diego. But if you're reading this and you're someone I like and you want to live with me and my potato I'll give you first dibs. Let me know and I'll send you details. If you're wondering how the neighbourhood feels about dogs and cats having sex with each other, this is a picture of the pet hospital a few blocks away:
I guess they take a page from the Marvin Gaye book of healing practices. Despite the convenient proximity of the interspecies sex clinic, I should say there are no pets allowed in the apartment building itself.
Here's a picture of the courtyard I took to-day: