It was dark like November all day today, and it was wet like March. It wasn’t anything like what a June day in Northern California should be.

It should be hot. The high school seniors are graduating this week, and I can’t remember a time when the parents and grandparents didn’t have to swelter in the blazing sun for hours while their darlings paraded across the makeshift outdoor stage and tossed around beach balls threw spitballs at the principal. This year they’re all going to need umbrellas.

So I’m disgruntled. I paid my dues, lasting through the long winter without complaining. (Okay, that’s a lie. I complained plenty. But I did get through it, and my reward was supposed to be four or five months of hot, sunny days. Not this mess.) I had to work to keep from sinking into the doldrums today.

There’s not a lot I can do to pick myself up. I’m stuck in the house working all day, except for a couple of hours in the middle of the morning. Often those hours are spoken for, but today I took care of some things that have been nagging at me. I put gas in my car, for one thing.

That doesn’t sound like much, but there are no stations that I like on my side of the freeway, so I have to arrange my errand run to include that stop. I went through the weekend with a low tank, hoping that no emergency would come up that would require me to drive to Napa or Petaluma or even Graton. As usual, nothing did. But I couldn’t make it through another weekend like that.

And I got a haircut. Most of the time I like my haircut the first day and hate it the second. This one I’m not so fond of today, so by tomorrow maybe it will have grown on me. Or something. Anyway, even with a lousy haircut, I feel better that it’s done, and that helps me cope with a crummy day.

The shearer person didn’t give me much of a chance to tell her what I wanted. She sprayed my head with her squirt bottle and started with the scissors, and then I told her to use the clippers, because she wasn’t going to get it short enough that way. So she had to use the blow dryer and start over. Then at the end she slapped some gel on top before I could tell her that I wanted it even shorter.

So I gave up and left her the usual inflated tip. I can’t help myself when it comes to tipping. I always overdo it, because I tip on personality rather than service. I’m weak like that.