Weatherman
I have established a routine.
I have established a routine. Every morning I wake up at 6:36, shower, put in my contacts, smear the deodorant, brush my teeth, dress, turn on my computer, read my e-mail (if there is indeed any e-mail to be read), read various online articles, then turn off my computer, eat breakfast, watch "Today on NBC," make my lunch, then leave. Every morning at 7:30 exactly, the local morning news and weather come on and I watch attentively as the weatherman lays out my week.
He speaks of low and high pressure, emphatically gesturing to an animated globe behind him and conveying to me the simplest possible mental model of how weather works. High pressure means hot; low pressure means cool. It's almost gotten to the point that I find myself cheering for the low pressure blue spots to root out the high pressure red spots and take their rightful place overtop of Chico, CA everyday of the year.
It is a strange obsession, this weather-watching, and I find that if I don't get it on weekday mornings, I feel somehow deprived. And it has to be the same weatherman, every time, or I feel somehow betrayed. The same hand waving, the same vocabulary ("ridge", "zone", "cooldown", "delta breeze", etc.), the same I've-been-up-since-four-am delirious smile.
I'm not really sure why I care. I work indoors.