Odd hearing that in San Diego. It rarely rains, and when it does, it’s usually just a bunch of overcast skies and a light drizzle. The most that ever happens is that the fabric seat on my bicycle absorbs all the rainwater, so I walk into class looking like I soiled myself.
Geoffrey and I had a conversation on a wooden bench yesterday about this (among other things). We’d both take periods of storms over constant half-assed sprinkles any day. Storms are cathartic. Light sprinkles just leave you expecting and wanting more. Maybe it’s the shared physical risk that comes from being belted with the kinds of winds that can knock over trees, or getting hit from hail the size of golf balls. Maybe it’s because the harsh weather outside makes for better reading weather, and makes for a better excuse to get cozy with one another (not that you needed an excuse, but it helps). Or maybe it’s because it just leaves for a better show.
But the weather never takes your personal preferences into consideration. Why should it?
