Lukewarm and wet.
That’s Vancouver in a nutshell. Standard weather. What we’re used to. Normal. Everyday.
MEH.
I am a firm believer that if there is precipitation in the winter, it should be snow. And if it is warmish, it should be clear.
I don’t like the combination of almost-too-warm-for-a-coat and definitely-so-wet-you-need-a-coat.
I end up sweaty and wet ANYHOW, because the rain does not fall nicely from the sky the way I ask it to.
I do ask, by the way. I look up at the sky and yell, “STRAIGHT DOWN, THANK YOU. PLEASE AIM AT MY UMBRELLA.”
And I ignore people when they stare.
Every time I think it’s going to finally get cold-snappish here and really dry out for a few minutes, the weather report changes the day before to indicate that my surroundings will be about 200% warmer and 1000% more damp.
I just want a nice two-week period where my hair isn’t sad and limp, and I’m not forced to put on my ineffectual GoreTex jacket to pretend at water resistance. I want to get to work without damp pant hems. I want to escape the giant drips that fall from building awnings right down the back of my neck. I’d like to not sneeze at encroaching mold.
I’d like to go for a walk without returning home looking like a waterlogged cat in a shower:
Vancouver is absolutely legendary for SAD sufferers. I think those radiant light boxes that help seasonally-affected people sell out here all the time.
But that’s not my issue. I’m perfectly happy in the dark.
I JUST WOULD LIKE TO BE DRY. MAYBE FOR A DAY. OR TWO.
Thank you.
