Scribbles

After weeks of marshy summer, I landed yesterday in Munich to rain and cold.  Not freezing cold, but chilly enough to lament not packing anything suitable for say, the typical San Franciscan evening.  And though my sole jacket is feather thin, I'm grateful that it's rainproof.  It offered me the luxury of taking the subway to the office this morning midst dreary passengers and bleak clouds.  I don't mean to be glib when I call my commute a luxury.  After five months of neck-breaking pace, there's something comfortable about waking up to gray skies, hopping on public transport, and making one's way to the office like the usual 9-to-5-ers; a sense of normalcy that's been sorely lacking.  I couldn't suppress a smile seeing my colleagues wrapped in their sweaters instead of Florida's humid embrace.  Part of my glee was sharing their comfort in waking up in their own sheets, perhaps tangled in the limbs of a loved one, or at a minimum, having access to their full wardrobes.  I'm loving this change of season, perfectly marking the transition from the current endeavor to the next.