For the past few days, Massachusetts has been sweltering. Temps in the 90s with 80% humidity. It’s been unbearable and kind of a kick in the teeth.
Why you ask?
Over Memorial Day weekend, I reserved a hotel room with an ocean view in Rockport. We had access to a deck so we could sit outside, listen to the water crash on the rocks, and watch seabirds bobble along the water’s surface.
Or that was what I pictured when I reserved the room.
As it turned out, the night we were there, the temperature was in the low 40s, with 20 mile per hour wind, and non-stop rain.
Why couldn’t we have had the nice weather on our night away? Apparently, the weather gods hate me.
I’m determined to go back to the hotel when the weather is good. Not simply because it would be lovely, but I’m doing research for a seaside trilogy with Miranda MacLeod that we’re planning on launching next summer.
My suffering wasn’t in vain, since we’re going to use it as a plot point for the first book in the series, but I still wished the weather had cooperated.
I did brave the chilly temps to snap some views from the hotel deck, but didn’t stay outside long, because I insisted on wearing shorts. Memorial Day weekend is the unofficial start of summer in the US, and dammit if I was going to wear pants!
