I've finally figured it out. I know why it is still 90 degrees here. It's happened at last: the Earth is falling into the sun. Collect your loved ones and let loose with the terrified screams of your choice, because we're all going down!
Okay. Maybe I'm overreacting. But it is November-freakin'-14th and it was 90 bloody degrees here today. Again. I just can't take it anymore! What is a wool-loving sweater knitter to do? A whole closet of wonderful woollies just waiting for their moment of glory and I'm frantically looking for a clean tank top to go with my capri pants and sandals and double-layering the SPF 45. I can't even imagine roasting a turkey all day; do you think anyone would mind cold soup and popsicles for Thanksgiving dinner?
On an ironic note, I'm almost done with my Not-So-Sahara, which is shaping up to be the warmest sweater I've ever made. It's thick and cushy and woolly and delightful, and unless I move to Toronto (which hubby and I agreed, as we were sweltering our way out to the car, is a simply smashing idea), I may never get to wear it.
Hey, Santa? Forget the sleigh. Bring the surfboard. We'll meet you at the beach.