I am exquisitely sensitive when it comes to the weather. I am not exquisitely sensitive when it comes to everything. Like, I don’t freak over spiders (although if you’re ever in a situation in which you need to get a secret out of me, use a mouse and I will spill the beans, pronto), I am not afraid of the dark (anymore), I am not a scaredy cat when it comes to needles, but I am wildly affected by my surroundings, and that includes the very thing that’s happening in the atmosphere. A sunny day, makes me, well sunnier. Rain makes my face fall (except for every once in a while when it feels absolutely perfect), cold makes my shoulders hit my ears, perpetual snow (a la last winter) makes me a carb-seeking zombie in a really bad mood.
That goes for interiors, as well. When things are a mess, I feel it. The disorder strikes me in my gut, and gives me a feeling of having no control (which is reality, but who likes to live in that). Not that I am good at keeping things spotless, and orderly. I am not. But a certain level of zen is required. I seek light colors. I love white. I could live in a cloud, quite happily. (As if that could happen.)
Today’s temperature has plummeted. We’re into the 70’s and my upper lip has stopped sweating. The past week of 90 degree weather became stifling. This day feels calmer, like people everywhere are breathing again. And breathing is good. Breathing is like, really good.