Today's had some wonderfully weird weather:
When I left my apartment this morning, the sun was shining in my eyes and the clouds looked white and fluffy.
At around eight, I could see dark, ominous clouds to the west.
Some time near ten, the sky opened up and sent torrents of rain down upon the world.
By eleven everything looked to be clearing.
One-ish, the darkness returned.
As two rolled around giant drops in massive amounts fell from the sky.
Now, nearly three-thirty, the clouds to the east are black, to the west are fluffy and white, and the sun shines on the dry, except for some puddles, parking lot across the street, but what looms just beyond?
I watch and listen to the people in my office get frustrated at all this. It's almost May, they say, the weather should be clearing. I sit and think how wonderful it is.
I like the rain. The only thing that makes the rain better is when there's thunder and lightening.
Of course, this could be like me liking the snow. I've never lived though snow that piles upon itself day after day for a week and I've never been though tornadoes and hurricanes. And even if that is the reason I like it, I like the rain. I like the smell of the concrete and pavement after the storm. I like the oil slicks on puddles or running down the street after a craptastic car drives by. I like the sound it makes on roofs and my umbrella. I like how it makes my shoes and the cuffs on my pants wet.
I wrote last week about how the weather here has been warm and clear, but every week or so we get a storm and I hope to whatever possible god that may or may not be out there that this cycle continues all summer long. Not just to please me, but to also piss off those around me.