I’ve hit my limit. There may be those out there who enjoy L.A. all costumed up just in time for Halloween as the universe’s biggest gray whale but now into almost a week of swimming in this dreary San Francisco soup I’m tired of it! Sick actually. This day after day of drizzly gun-metal skies is bumming me out on a massive level. Sapping my energy. Making me look fondly down the barrels of guns and upon the edges of knives. And sure, the forecast today is calling for the sun to do more than peekaboo through the steely tent and actually burn the crap off, but when, eh? Probably around 5 p.m. when it’s almost dark and the clouds and fog are formed back up on the edges of the city ready for a counterattack that will overrun us once more. Run away! Run away!