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Misery
by acdickson
Thy name is Los Angeles. Apparently, yesterday the infamous Santa Ana winds officially kicked up. Today, brush fires have sprouted up all over the Southland. A brief (ever so brief, children) peek at the boob tube assures AC that the multi-million dollar homes are being protected by 3,000 firefighters, but the wind has started to blow hot smoky air that drapes on you like a beach baja all over town.
Oblivious to both these developments AC and Susan took a hike earlier today in their beloved Griffith Park, hoping to take refuge from the 90-degree (but as of then relatively clean) heat. There the smoky wind hit us like a blast from a furnace. We watched as the downtown skyline went from completely clear to a wall of gray. The hike was abandoned.
The current conumdrum is whether to close all the windows and endure the 90-plus degree evening or inhale what the vigilant news reporters say is very dangerous and should only be greeted with a mask.
But it certainly could be worse. It could be a lot worse.
