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I swear someone controls the weather over Florence. November 1st and it’s time for the rain, the darkness, the deep wet cold that gets inside the house and makes everyone wear two pairs of socks always. I know I complained about the heat all summer. Wait, let me rephrase, I complained about the inferno that was this summer (with only eight days of rain in Florence), and I believe I had a right to – and I still say this weather is better than death by drowning in your own sweat, but this is certainly not what I was asking for.

We did have a really nice September and October, but it was a New England summer, with bright sunshine in the 70’s and 80’s (20-26C) and certainly not very “sweatery.” And that was literally up until last Sunday on Oct. 27th. Then the past week has dropped temps and the rain came pouring down on Thursday night and everything has been continuously wet and cold since. The time change (we’re earlier than the US because they made DST longer in 2007) made it worse because the sun sets at five now and the buildings make it dark at four, right when Rami is going to work.

Meanwhile, the rain is traumatizing Luna, who I dragged down to simply throw the trash out, this morning because she hasn’t wanted a walk in days, and she made it seem like we were walking through acid rain – diving into dry doorways with her ears flattened to the back of her head in panic. The worst part is that she had a red waterproof jacket on, so it made her even more pathetic.

We’re being thrown into pure hibernation mode as November hits and it’s legal to turn on the heat. This weather pattern usually lasts through the month on and off, and then clears a bit just in time for the Christmas lights and markets. I feel bad for the tourists that come this time of year as they huddle under umbrellas and ponchos on the sidewalks, their feet soaking and their faces miserable. This is when museums can be the best place to be.

So until the rain calms down a bit and the thunder stops shaking our rooftops, I’ll be in our apartment, wishing we had a fireplace or a woodstove, and drinking copious amounts of tea and coffee while a ball of fur curls tighter next to me on the couch.

 

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