I used to love the rain. I thought it was charming and fun. Then I moved out of Southern California and the The Land that Weather Forgot, and I realized that anything is charming and fun when it only happens twice a year. When it happens every day for months straight? It sort of loses its appeal.
Still, it takes a few weeks for my brain to catch up with this idea. So every winter, when it starts the rainy season, my brain shorts out and starts going on and on about how quaint the sound of rain on a tin roof sounds, how delightful it is to jump in puddles, and how there is nothing better in life than a new umbrella and a pair of polka-dot rain boots.
In a week or so when it’s still raining and I haven’t seen blue sky in what seems like a life time, my brain will catch up and remind me that we hate to be wet and cold, we love the sun and heat, and we never want to see another flippin’ mud puddle again.
Until then, I’ll just enjoy the moment.