October is only two months away (really!), the month when Atlanta becomes a temperate paradise and I renew my annual tradition of deluding myself into thinking it's always 68 degrees here. Right now, though, I'm deep in my annual tradition of bitching about the weather at every opportunity (a tradition that leads to much-derided post titles like this). It was too unpleasant to sit on a shaded patio yesterday (though a revelation: Hand in Hand's chili wings are great, perhaps the first time I've ever said anything good about the food at one of the Derek Lawford Pubs). It was too hot to sleep last night, even with the air conditioner going at a strain-the-power-grid level. It sucks.
I'm occupying myself with cold thoughts -- Russian literature, imagining the Ice Hotel, photos of Iceland, hockey fight videos. And I'm reminding myself that this will end, eventually.
And of course, I'm going to London (two weeks from tomorrow, and if you think I won't be mentioning it daily here until then, you haven't been reading this for very long). I'm sort of afraid to look at the weather, for fear of learning that London is going through some sort of record-breaking heat wave.
Ahead of the trip, I'm cutting back on my bad behaviors for a bit -- partly to save money so that I can afford to eat while over there, partly because presumably drinking a lot less will give me more time to be productive. In the pursuit of that goal, I'm also trying to reduce internet usage -- I have a bad habit of lying on the couch and cycling through a few pages (usually Sidearm Delivery, Covered in Oil, Canucks and Beyond, All My Little Words, Tony Karon, the Comics Curmudgeon), then checking TSN to see if poor Tomas Kloucek has a deal yet, then resume the cycle.
Making it worse, I've recently been introduced to Facebook, and if that site isn't the subject of alarmed studies about addiction yet, it should be. I already felt like a dork about my MySpace page (sorry, but it's the only way to prove I'm pals with Vaic Fan), but now that I'm checking my Facebook page hourly, I feel even worse. And there's no way to pretend that there's anything remotely productive associated with this.
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I actually bought the Atlanta Journal-Constitution for the first time in years yesterday, drawn in by a cover story on Atlanta's worst bridges. It was a mixture of concern after last week's Minneapolis disaster (that night, I realized just how many bridges/overpasses I drive on, and just how heavily patched they are) and thinking that I may get some tips on cool photo opportunities.
The whole thing is a bit ominous -- I would presume (perhaps wrongly, but I doubt it) that Minneapolis's infrastructure is considerably better than Atlanta's, and the latter's viaduct system means you can barely go a mile without going over or under some sort of bridge. I don't think I've ever been on any of the mentioned bridges -- I'd presume, though, that there's a ton that just narrowly missed the cut for that article. Hooray!