It’s raining. Again. This is hardly news at this point. It’s pretty much rained all summer long. I ran out of different ways to tweet the fact that it is raining a long, long time ago. And, yet, I continue to talk about it. Why? Because I have a biological predisposition to talk about the weather. I come by it naturally, it’s the favorite topic of conversation at most family gatherings.
I’m sure that it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that talking about politics ends up in a WWE-style royal rumble. Nobody wants to see my Dad get Grandma in a headlock again.
I’m kidding about the headlock.
At least as far as you know.
Most people around here can’t shut up about the weather. It’s cloying. It’s depressing. It’s starting to feel like we’re never going to get more than two days in a row of sun. Ever again. This has been the shortest summer ever and that’s mostly because this isn’t summer. Summer involves watermelon, not endless rain. Summer involves ice cream and not hot cocoa. Summer means never having to wear a sweater in the daylight hours. Summer means having enough days without rain that I can actually paint our stupid deck.
At this rate, our deck should be painted by October. By then, it’ll probably be winter.
If you got some beer and pie, you could recreate the title track from your new album!
We went through several straight weeks of rain too, and it is DEPRESSING. A co-worker from Seattle told me “You guys are being weenies, try 90 days straight of this.” Um, yeah, I DON’T LIVE IN SEATTLE! For good reason.
We had about 2 weeks straight of rain, a month ago, and it was miserable. It was totally depressing!