I hate days when the temperature is over 75 degrees. I get incredibly uncomfortable when hot and often dehydrate at a rapid rate. I prefer to sit in the park, with long pants and a cardigan, on a moderately sunny day. I love a good breeze if I have remembered to take my allergy medicine. Nothing makes me feel more alive than a pathetically foggy day, the kind of day where the fog cries little tiny tears because even it is sad that there is no sunshine. Your hair multiplies in volume and you arrive at work with a slight film of mist on your clothing. Perhaps because I am Irish or perhaps because I have never lived anywhere other than places where summer means fog until after lunch, a proper foggy day renders me quite content. As for warm days when the temperature is between 70 and 75 degrees, I find that they make me uncomfortably anxious. I try to spend as much time "enjoying the weather" (this is the Bay Area, you never know when you'll get another purely sunny day), but will end up only walking to the grocery store for a bag full of snacks to array on the coffee table in front of my perch on the couch. On foggy days, I don't feel bad staying inside and reading a book all afternoon or watching free On Demand movies. I enjoy walking around San Francisco on a foggy day far more than on a warm day. My cheeks still get pink, but I don't get rings of sweat in the underarms of my shirt and I feel healthier, like I just improved my constitution or beat tuberculosis.

In conclusion, I find that a foggy day in San Francisco, with the proper layering and disposition, is the perfect kind of weather.

Phil Collins and Bone Thugs-n-Harmony.
They would perform their jam "Home" and it would be magnificent. So much better then The Boss signing the song about a one-legged dog from the end of The Wrestler. Not to say that I don't love The Boss.