I live in the Pacific Northwest. This is my 4th winter here. I get that it rains all winter. Really. I GET IT. Now for the love of God, enough already. It has rained here for something like 30 days straight. I am not using hyperbole when I say that in recent memory, I can think of exactly 2 brief instances when I saw any blue sky or the actual sun. Sometimes the rain stops and the sky becomes a brighter shade of gray, but that doesn't count in my book. The last time the sun came out, I ran through the house opening blinds and when I found a good sized puddle of sunlight on the futon in David's room, I sat in it like a cat until it was gone again. Even when the rain stops, there is a fine mist in the air wetting everything that passes through it. Even when the mist stops, there are always those suffocating clouds hemming in the limited view. Each morning I wake up and hear the rain slamming on the roof and I'm starting to feel like those pioneer women who endured the endless prairie wind until they snapped, took the shotgun and blew off their heads. I'm tired of wet cars and wet shoes and the squish of mud. I'm tired of shiny pavement and soggy newspapers. I haven't put my sunglasses on in weeks and I have an odd dependence on them, especially when I drive. I watch the rainwater on the driveway across the way, sheeting and rippling as it streams down to the street. It has a hypnotic effect and I find it hard to tear myself away and get anything done. As with most people around here, I've upped my coffee intake. I've taken to adding a cup in the late afternoon to pull me through. A cinnamon dolce latte does a lot to put me back on track.
The good news is that we go to Arizona this weekend. Ritu has a conference there and we're going to join him. I'm going to stick myself outside and recharge like a solar powered yard light.