musing

It is cloudy this morning, as it was yesterday, and I am so grateful for the temporary respite. I spent much of Monday mentally shaking my fist at the blank white cloudless sky and cursing the dry heat. I suppose a San Diego day of Santa Ana winds is better than a summer day in Florida with all the smothering humidity and bugs the size of small dogs. But still. It's March, for god's sake; it's too early for me to be getting in my car and yelping in shock from the sudden contact of my skin against the blazing hot upholstery. And these cloudy mornings are proving to be an empty promise. Burning afternoons with all the moisture sucked out of them, followed by evenings of scattered clouds and even sprinkles appear to be the new norm. Craziness.

I recently made a few resolutions, only one of which I am making any progress with. I decided that I absolutely must begin exercising more, and that every day this week that I am not working that I will go out for a long bike ride. Monday I managed a medium-length bike ride, and I'm very proud of myself. I'm also trying to be more aggressive with the job search, but I'm having difficulty with self-esteem issues--a serious impediment. Both of these resolutions are kind of on hold today, at least, because I have had a mysterious pseudo-migraine headache for three days. It alternately feels like a moderate oppressive ache and then suddenly there is some crazed demon stabbing my forehead with an icepick. The accompanying nausea is the real kicker, I suppose. It's very hard to motivate myself under these conditions. I just want to go back to bed with the hope that tomorrow this will finally leave me alone and I can take my refreshed and energized self down to the Career Center and do some serious job hunting.

Coda: On Monday, during my bike ride down the looping street that winds itself around the perimeter of my neighborhood, a couple of men doing some roofing whistled at me (several times!) when I rode by. I was amused and surprisingly flattered by this. When I was much younger I used to be totally incensed at construction workers' catcalls and remarks--I felt besmirched somehow by their behavior. I thought they were just being misogynistic assholes. So now I find it terribly amusing that not only was I not upset by the wolf-whistling roofers, but that it actually made me happy. I suppose it is a function of growing older that I am pleased that anyone still thinks I'm worth whistling at.