I woke this morning feeling good, happy and well rested, until I drew open the blinds and saw what the day had to offer. The sky was a thick, grey blanket that hung low over the city skyline, hugging the corners of the horizon in its grasp. Rubbing my cold feet together I watched as rain poured down relentlessly causing trees to bend under the persistent pressure. I didn’t have to step outside to know it was freezing, it was already cold inside, a chill nipping at my nose through the window as I snuck back beneath my blankets. Who would want to face the world on a day like today?
Pulling the blankets to my chin I looked at my book laying on the night table next to me. I wanted to read it, to listen as it whispered its delicious adventure in my ear but I didn’t reach for it. I thought about it, I really did but I was beginning to warm beneath the covers and I decided against it. I looked at it sitting there on the white tabletop, tilting my head side to side as if that might entice it over on its own but it didn’t and there it stubbornly remained.
I shrugged off defeat against the cold and lay with my body still, but my mind began to wander. It wandered through a few different topics, moving from my curiosity of the origins of the word cold to what I might have for breakfast, which then lead me to wonder if the weather didn’t improve how I might never leave my bed again. Surely there’s a service to bring you soup in bed on such days? Ahhh yes, boyfriends. With a chuckle to myself I moved on, finally coming to the broad topic of rainy weather.
What is it about rainy days that plummets peoples’ spirits? What is it that makes us want to crawl into our beds and only emerge when the weather decides to smarten up? Perhaps, I pondered, it is the similarity it holds to our own tears? The mind is a powerful, powerful machine that works tirelessly in the background of our conscious, even on things that we might not want to think about like problems or worries. So, perhaps when it rains, subconsciously it seems as though the sky is sad. The sky appears to be crying after all and if the sky is having a bad day then it doesn’t look too promising for us now, does it? It’s always much more encouraging to see a bright, chipper day where the birds sing and it feels as though anything is possible. Rainy days are cold, they’re wet, they’re sad, dark and gloomy. They’re just the Mondays of weather.
Well, since the beginning of the cold, torrential rain signals the unwelcome arrival of Old Man Winter in our neck of the woods, I will begin my hibernation in furry blankets and thick socks and wish to never be without a cup of hot chocolate in my hand. Oh, and if you should see me without one, do be a dear and find me one. Steaming hot with just a little cream.