There is no way to begin to describe how tired of rain I am. I am now glad that I never lived in Seattle, because if the weather there is similar to the past month of rain in New York, I would have gone off a bridge by now. Although I am glad New York is not going to have a drought, the unrelenting wet grayness is so drab. And I haven’t had a chance to wear any of my spring clothes!
In a week or so,. New York’s climate will lurch into summer gear: 95 degrees and up, humid, and smoggy. Everyone will be too cold on the subway and in the office, and covered with a fine film of aromatic sweat up on the streets. The beaches will reek of coconut oil and the sand will be filled with the rubbed-out ends of filter cigarettes and pop-tops. Everyone who can afford it will leave New York for the weekend, but head back in Monday morning to make their cash. The suburbanites will head home on the train, dreaming of air-conditioning, wishing they didn’t have to mow the lawn, and anticipating the time the kids head off to camp. On Monday mornings, they will remember the week they spent on vacation in the Hamptons or Fire Island, and the sheer joy and exhilaration they felt every day at 10 am, when all those poor bastards their friends were at work and they were with the rich, at the beach.
The rain is saving us from all this, but it is also preventing me from going outside for any length of time, and enjoying the weather is one of the key aspects of my weekend. Arghhh. I am glad I don’t live in Seattle…