SATURDAY MORNING

I looked at the two-week forecast and it's safe to say that winter has bid adieu. The temperature will average 85 as we brace ourselves in April for the merciless months of May, June, July and August. In September the hurricane clouds from the gulf are the first sign that summer is setting us free of its sadistic torture.

I don't challenge the summer. Except for short walks from my hotel cell to nearby restaurants for lunch, I live in the luxury of air-conditioning. I pay $650 a month and besides the excellent internet and an ample selection of cable stations, I can turn my room into a meat locker. I refuse to suffer. Perhaps that accounts for my addition to Xanax. And if worse comes to worse, I keep a loaded pistol under my pillow. I will not endure long periods of physical or mental pain. Why? Life is just not that precious that one has to keep breathing at all costs.

Occasionally, I leave the hotel for breakfast. I grow bored with my usual regimen of Shredded Wheat, orange juice, yogurt and an apple. I patronize Super Cream. I stop at the nearest convenient store, buy El Bravo and trek the two blocks to the restaurant that specializes in more sophisticated Mexican cuisine. I once thought of the restaurant as one of the city's great undiscovered secrets, but that description no longer applies. It is always packed and I seldom go there without the pleasure of sharing besos y abrazos with several acquaintances.

I find confronting the morning elements the worst time of the day. I have been sleeping all night in air-conditioning. I have to have a cold room in order to nestle under the covers and I set the air-conditioner at 68. When I walk outside to go for breakfast, I walk into a wall. It is usually about ten--retirement has turned me into a late and lazy sleeper--and the air is still and humid. There are no winds blowing from the gulf that make the late afternoons sufferable. Raised in California's Central Valley, I have always lived in heat, so I'm not completely debilitated about our reality. As I age--a process that grows more rapid with each passing year--I am less tolerant of the heat. I am grateful that winter hung around as long as it did.

I am thinking that Montreal might be a pleasant place to spend the summer. I escaped summer last year in Mexico City and it was a wise decision. I love having nothing. It makes departing so much easier. When I watch individuals devastated by natural disasters that have destroyed their homes and all their belongings, I give thanks that I am not a materialistic person. I only desire to have money in my wallet and my bank account. I had the joy of raising two separate families in two beautiful homes with two cars and all the amenities of the American Dream, but I find possessions a nightmare now.

These thoughts come to mind as the maid cleans my room. I washed yesterday and I am hanging my clothes while she puts fresh linen on my bed, scrubs the bathroom and mops the floor. My surroundings are spic and span. I have nothing planned for today except write, exercise at Gold's and eat dinner at a nice restaurant in the company of my sons if they don't have more important things to do. Sometimes being able to eat and drink on the old man's tab proves too tempting a proposition even for them. I don't complain. I take what I can get. I love their company and it's a part of my crusade that they will remember me for my generosity Ni mas, ni menos. Asi es la vida.