I remember reading Janet Fitch's book "White Oleander" years ago. One of the motifs is the evocation of the Santa Ana winds, the hot, dusty winds that come through Southern California this time of year. I lived in New York then, which has no equivalent I can think of, except sudden inclement weather every month of the year, barring possibly a two week window at the end of April and beginning of May.
The Santa Ana's I know about now. They don't possess me to do crazy things like the characters in the book, rather they bring dust and pollen. It's more mundane, but it certainly has an effect. Once again, I am sneezing all day, even with allergy medication, and unsure if I will wake up tomorrow with a full-blown cold or feeling better. My check engine light went on yesterday, too, resulting in another bill for several hundred dollars on my car, the second time in as many months. I'm blaming it on the Santa Ana's.
On the bright side, I got to eat the slightly junky food I like when I have a cold - macaroni and cheese with peas and grocery store rotisserie chicken - while watching junk food TV. I also get to drive a rental car for two days, courtesy of my mechanic, which is pristine white and much cleaner than my car. I'm trying to find maybe something else with the wind - the hope and remembrance that things will blow over as quickly as they blew in. SoCal problems.