August 29th, 2020



I look at the weather stats every morning because I like weather, and also because weather is how I mark memory. Environ Canada has a double set of record highs and lows, one for up to 2013 and one for since. The first one I can go 'oh, so 1955 really was searingly hot ' and 1962 because trips to Europe always happened in searing heat, and 1948 which was before I was born. And the second set, whose records are rarely as recordy as the first set in spite of global climate change, has me head scratch 'it was that hot in 2013?' (a record cool year) or 'it was that wet in 2016?' (a drought year). So I go check my LJ entries for that period, and sometimes I noted the weather and sometimes I didn't. And it's all nice time-travelly and forgottre events, till I come back to the present. And the present feels like I'm living in an A/U, one where the Pisanis have vanished from the south of me and my family has vanished from the north of me and the daycare is just a distant memory and I can no longer walk to the supermarket. And I know when all this happened, except maybe the last, but it still feels most sudden and odd,