The Forecast for Today...

44º(F), sunny, with scattered snow showers.

Yes, it's snowing outside my window.

No, I don't get it either.

I had one of those inevitable discussions about the weather with my coworker on Monday, saying, "Yeah, according to my Mac OS X weather widget, it's going to snow on Wednesday."

"That's wrong," he said. "They need to start using a new source."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I'm not exactly how it's going to snow at this elevation [or lack thereof] when it's going to be well above freezing," I said, my hopes of seeing snow dashed.

Well all I have to say now is: HAH!!! THE WIDGET WAS RIGHT!!! YOU WERE WRONG!!!

And the loser is... ME. I'm screwed. I thought I had mastered inclement weather in San Francisco. Over years of being a powderhound (as in snowboarder, not as a cokehead), I learned weather patterns in quirky, miroclimate-riddled Northern California so well that I could apply my knowledge practically anywhere and have a good handle on the weather.

Not here. Whereas in San Francisco we were privy to four seasons in a day (most of the day being winter), Paris gets four seasons about every fifteen minutes. For instance, the snow outside my window has given way to blue skies and brilliant sunshine, prompting me to lower the blinds so as not to bake nor get sunburned. The light is that intense right now. Moments ago, the windshields of the cars parked below were starting to get a dusting of white probably last seen under some club kid's nose.

The unpredictability of weather here is awesome in some ways. You see Paris in every shade of light possible as you walk through it, then you see the lit-up version at night. It's all good. But it also means that you get on the stuffy Métro with your bottom layer, a middle layer, and a heavy coat, all to be able to deal with whatever mother nature throws at you. Wear too much, and you'll suffocate while you're underground. Wear too little, and you'll die of hypothermia when you come up out of the station.

This is the kind of stuff that toughens you up. Or as a certain American presidential candidate would call it, "vetted."