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We’ve had rain for a few days now.

It’s not too cold outside — mostly muggy, temperature normalish — but I think the whole scene makes it seem as though the weather were a bit more chilly than it is.

Even after a week of sunshine, it only takes a day to become re-accustomed to those ominous charcoal tufts of steel wool floating overhead, broken up by tiny bits of blue whenever one of the clouds forgets the “overcast” mandate laid out by Environment Canada.

This is Vancouver.

We rain.

Even in July, when everyone else on the West Coast (and the East Coast, for that matter. And the parts in between, dammit!) is wandering about in a bronzed, be-shorted bliss, we know that even the brightest day can end up feeling more like November.

I mean, I’m not asking you to feel sorry for us.

We’re awfully pretty as a result — our grass stays green, and our streets don’t feel like dustbowls — and the precipitation is good for keeping our forests safe from the fires that often ravage dry areas in the summertime.

But BLECH to raincoats in warm weather.

And BLECH to the kind of humidity that makes me feel like condensation is forming on the insides of my lungs.

And BLECH to sudden cloudbursts that make you wish you hadn’t worn a white tank top.

And BLECH to making plans to do anything outside and having those same plans change within a half hour because monsoon season sets in over lunch.

Someone emailed me once to ask if I talked about the rain in Vancouver to scare off tourists so I could have this beautiful city to myself.

And oh, ho ho… we Vancouverites joke about our reverse PR strategies all the time.

But no… everyone is welcome to come here!

Just don’t look surprised when you see that they sell raincoats at the airport, and all your shoes start making squooshy noises when you walk, and dust settles on your sunglasses where you left them on the table a week ago.

(Is it working?)