Okay, September. Don't Be So Anxious To Become October. Hang On To August a Little.

A week ago, I was running in pea soup like I lived in the state of Louisiana. The heat index was over 100 degrees. This morning, I woke up to learn that the temperature outside was 58 degrees, and I felt lucky to see my indoor temperature maintained at 67. I was worried that the heat would kick on while I slept.

But then there was my office that was cranking out the air conditioning - it was a frigid temperature, so much so that I thought my fingers were going to fall off. I even made a cup of hot cocoa to warm them up. I just wanted to hold the mug.

Of course, walking into Donnarumma (ding dong) where the English Department was, the heat was on. It was cranking and it felt balmy. I was like, "Uh, Oh. Bring on sickness and colds."

The gym, however, was perfect. Because it's been a constant rain from the remnant of a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico meandering to Connecticut, there was no way to get outside for a run. There were no breaks in the clouds, and Glamis let me know this, because she refused to go outside. Instead, she nabbed every toy she could find and, using one paw, played field hockey with them across the hardwood floor to drive me nuts.

The gym, though, was a salvation. I tend not to go if I can find a way to run outside. This was desperation, and I felt like I was having a January moment. I needed to sweat and to feel alive in the cold. I was thinking soups as I sat in my house with a blanket on. It's too early for this. Last week I was sweating my butt off enjoying the high temperatures along the beach.

Forecasts say it will change, but yesterday was enough warning for what's to come. Living in the northeast can be rough....beautiful, but rough.

Sleep is good, though. Nothing like cold nights and warm blankets.