It’s barely even begun, and I’m ready to hibernate. Bears, you’ve got it good.
But I can’t complain either, even though I really, really want to.
I’m not one of those afflicted Vancouverites who suffers through the rain. I haven’t had to purchase a magical lightbox to get me through this part of the year. I like umbrellas, and I like using them, especially the plastic bubble umbrellas that fancy ladies (and I) prefer. When I can see the rain without having to physically endure the rain, it makes me feel like I’ve won. There’s no happier me than a me in a cozy little greenhouse in the midst of a downpour. Victory!
The rain is awesome, and the colder it gets, the fewer slimy buddies there are to avoid on the sidewalk. Oh, I look out for the snails. And the slugs, too, even though they don’t wear crunchy hats and are 97% less adorable. Nothing reaches out and slaps the smile off my Sunday like the inside-parts of one of those little dudes painted across a sidewalk square. Yuck and despair.
I won’t even begin to think about my feelings and how they’re incompatible with winter fashion. Mittens, I’m looking at you. Layers? BORING. If I’m covered in endless layers and I’m not in bed, someone lied to me. And to an extent, I’m lying to myself. I hate being cold. I hate water falling on my head. But I choose to live in Vancouver, and to live in a rainy city is to live under an endless blanket of droplets. So, fine then. I will zip up my ridiculous puffy white marshmallow coat, and I’ll open up my bubble umbrella, and I’ll force a grin until the sun comes out again.