Oh Where Did Thy Autumn Goeth?

I remember last year when I lived out in the grimy backwater of Shanghai Pudong and it was bright and cool and crisp one glorious weekend in October, and I thought to myself, “Gosh, with this cake of smog, autumn in Shanghai sure is comfortable.” Unfortunately, it also only lasted that one weekend, and before I knew it I was waking up at 6 am in the morning with my scrotum sucked up all the way into my chest cavity from the freezing greeting of the winter mornings. Add to the fact that the water heater for my bathroom worked the way I do Monday-Friday (which is to say, not very much), and that explains why I start kicking puppies and babies in anger when I start thinking about winter in Shanghai.

Right before I made the move out here I would often hear people warn me about how cold the city would be, with its low winter temperatures exacerbated by its high levels of humidity. I never really understand how additional moisture could make you “feel the cold all the way into your bones,” as many people have colorfully described it, until my first winter here after migrating from the warm confines of California. The way that I describe this vicious combination to others is this: imagine that you’re wearing nothing but a t-shirt while in Antarctica, standing over a cliff overlooking the ocean, with powerful winds gusting all around you. Now, imagine that your t-shirt is wet. That’s the difference between feeling cold and feeling cold all the way into your bones.

Anyway, autumn has come and gone and I’ve officially started wearing sweatshirts to sleep in addition to my Bugs Bunny briefs. I remember thinking to myself during the miserable and oppressing heat in August that it would be nice when the weather turned colder so I wouldn’t immediately start gushing sweat every time I moved a muscle. I’m still debating in my head whether it’s better to melt like cheese in the sun or have a rectal spasm from the taking that morning shower. Suffice it to say that I miss San Francisco weather.

One thing the cold can’t seem to kill: these hateful mosquitoes. I spent another night waking up every 30 minutes to buzzing in my ear and little mole-hills on my exquisite face. I ended up sleeping with both my glasses and the light on so I could immediately wake up and slap the oblivion out of one when it got close. This made for a very painful slumber, and even now while I yawn and stretch, my paranoid ass is looking all around the room for the little fuckers. I’ll probably end up squashing one, then going to bed thinking I’ll be safe, and then end up punished and drowsy the next day after the others go Mafia on my exposed noggin.

In other news, someone submitted this blog to Chinabloglist, a new index for English-language blogs related to China. I was really surprised and touched that someone actually considered this blog worthy of to be listed amongst Shanghaiist and Dan Washburn’s diaries. Then I remembered that it was I who had submitted it, and I spent the afternoon drowning in tears of self-pity. I guess these smog-mutated Shanghainese mosquitoes like to prey on the weak and desperate. Wish me luck tonight, sweet children.