Rainy Days and Mondays Always Get Me Down

Cole's facial hair felt heavy. The first sign that summer must be around the corner. Oh! sweltering heat, oh! moisture laden atmosphere. You carry the old urine and garbage molecules emanating from every alleyway so cursorily towards my nose. A little oxygen, a little nitrogen, a smidge of hydrogen, add a dash of salt. Fold until just incorporated. Humidity is here, and I'm not sure there's any going back.  I come from the desert, where moisture plus heat equals an odorous opus of oleander, creosote, and palo verde.  To curse the rain is only to deepen the dormant sleep of some of nature's most beautiful botanical creatures. But here, in the city, I will curse the rain.  The humidity serves only to coax the foulest of odors to take refuge in my nasal cavities.  I don't know what I would do without my Capogiro. Coffee brewing, everything bagels toasting, bacon frying. I implore you. Take refuge in my gelateria. WE HAVE BACON.