Rain.
I’ve never liked the rain.
Rain makes me sleepy, looks gloomy, and barometric pressure changes from high to low (and never in the reverse direction mind you) consistently provides an open invitation for headaches to rear ugly heads. Rain gets me wet, and I only enjoy being wet if it is my conscious decision to be. Hose down a cat, you’ll see what I mean. If I jump into a pool with my bathing suit on, I want to be wet. When I swim in the ocean and body surf a wave, I want to be wet. When I am dressed, shaved, ironed, tidied up, looking spiffy, feeling good and going to work, I do not want to be wet, be made wet, be made to become wet, wetted and wettened, made soggy, rained on, rained down on, rained down upon, or otherwise splashed, misted on, drizzled on, downpoured on, moistened, or be made to look or resemble someone who has been subjected to any of the above, in any manner, shape, or form heretofore mentioned.
As if rain isn’t bad enough, like a bad medication, it has side effects. One avoids worms with deft skill whilst meandering down sidewalks after the rain. One is forced to re-polish their new leather shoes that were nearly lost forever when you stepped into a hell-deep puddle you didn’t see because you were dodging the hell-mist from a passing dump truck as a tidal wave of mud-bespeckled water came flying toward you and patterned your tan jacket into a polka dotted nightmare.
Lots of quotes refer to rain. Let’s look at a few and see if they praise the rain or reject it. This will be an interesting experiment! Lets begin:
- “Don’t rain on my parade.” Rain does ruin things. Especially parades.
- “When it rains is pours.” Depending on the circumstance, this could be good or bad. Probably bad.
- “I love walking in the rain, ’cause then no one knows I’m crying.” That’s just depressing.
- “A poet is someone who stands outside in the rain hoping to be struck my lightning.” (James Dickey) Wow! This is really insightful. Benjamin Franklin was such an amazing poet too.
- “The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.” (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) That’s like saying, “the best thing you can do when you’re eating this cinder block is to eat this cinder block.”
I rule in favor of more rain quotes. Their authors tried to be positive, they really did. But when it comes down to it, I still don’t like the rain.
Childhood memories of remaining trapped in the house while it poured outside will never let me forget those dull, damp, dismal days. My father loved the way the basement windows leaked and filled the entire basement-yes, the entire basement-with inches of water, ruining everything touching the floor. One the weekends when it rained I began to note a bizarre pattern which dictated that we’d be going to visit family in Rhode Island. I began to equate the rain with visiting family in the ocean state, and sitting in the back seat of the car while dad cracked his window to smoke his cigarettes, providing an direct pathway for the rain outside to find its way, unhindered, into the backseat of the car (usually at 45 miles per hour or so) and pelt my sister and I in the face.
But worst of all, and worst of all by far, is the smell of rain. That smell of pure saturated wetness; deep damp earth; musky mustiness; the antithesis of all things cheerful, bright and joyful. It’s downright depressing. I dislike whole-heartedly the stench of rain. I left the living room window open last night; the weather was clear and pleasant. I drifted off to sleep. It rained. My living room smells like rain.
MK
Tuesday, November 7, 2006
