Or rather, I suppose he was. But it's only funny because it's true.
It's July in San Francisco and I am wearing a sweater and a jacket and a hat. It is so cold and foggy up here on Parnassus Street I'm making soup for dinner and getting out the flannels.
I went on a little search for the citation for Twain's aphorism: "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." But what I learned was that he didn't coin that at all. Another misattribution.
But still. It's freakin July and it is ass cold over here. I got sunburned in Sausalito yesterday and today I'm in a parka.
Brr.
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