Jacket Free January

It was barely a mile away. And it was before 8:00 a.m. And I love walking - especially when it's really an urban hike. So I laced up my sneakers. Their blue trim matched my navy blue suit. I strapped on my laptop and head out the door.

It was glorious outside. The kind of morning you took for granted when you were a kid and had summers off. The kind of morning that now, as a young professional, makes you cry. (When it falls on a weekday.) Because it was August. And it was DC. And after barely making it 4 blocks from my apartment, sweat had permeated thoughout every fiber of my pale blue blouse. I was dripping with sweat, and there was no way in hell I could acceptably show up at my 8:30 AM meeting looking - and melting - like this. SBS!

So I ducked into the Starbucks at 18th and Colubmia. I promptly covered myself in napkins, frantically dabbing my soaking wet skin in a feeble attempt to lap up the liquids streaming from my pores. I ordered an Iced Coffee and tried not to make eye contact with the Barrista, who was likely wondering why I had pieces of napkin all over my face. I downed the coffee and then used the change from the purchase to board the 42 Bus. I rode it seven more blocks to my meeting North of Dupont Circle.

As you can imagine, I was suprised to arrive at my new office on Day #1 with a bit of Sweaty Back Syndrome. (Luckily, the back of my knees were safe from perspiration.) So it seems like I can't fight the Italian in me and I'm going to continue to sweat even here in temperate San Francisco. But I'm OK with it. Eventually, summer will arrive, and I'll be enduring the coldest winter of my life. For now, three words: Jacket Free January.