One of the popular reasons to live on the west side of Los Angeles is the weather, but at this time of year, it’s not always a bonus. I wake up at 5:30 or 6, and start my morning. The problem is that when I need to wake my children at 7:30, I have to look at a clock to see if any time has passed at all. And it’s the same story at two in the afternoon, or seven in the evening. It feels like suspended animation. I can barely finish a sentence, let alone start the next round of research. My brain requires a certain amount of sunlight to turn on. I suppose that makes me solar powered. What has made me, over the last two weeks, is close to comatose.
This isn’t new. I’ve lived on this slice of the California coast since I was ten. San Pedro, Palos Verdes, Long Beach, Venice, Santa Monica and Culver City. This is what the first part of summer is like. I drink a lot of iced coffee in June, and I still feel an overwhelming need to take a nap.
The real conflict here is that I try to listen to Mother Nature. When I’m feeling too stuck in the chair, I get up and move. When I am sleepy, I snooze. If Mother Nature tells me to do something, I do it. But I have kids to feed and classes to teach, and a six-week long nap just isn’t in the cards.
I’m told that the sun will come out this weekend, and the temperature will rise. I will believe it when it happens, but when it happens, I’ll be pleased. I will once again be able to think clearly, and move out of this dangerously sweet and restful haze.