I love rain. When I can be inside and warm and watch it through the windows from bed. When I have to drag a giant bag of files on two buses to work and splash home with soaking feet and pants legs and an umbrella that has blown inside out, rain is not my friend. Pittsburgh has an average of 153 rainy days per year. That’s 41% of the year, for you math types. That, my friends, is a lot of rain. There are warm rains, short rains, Noah-and-the-Ark rains, and every other kind of rain in between.
Dressing in rubber every day is no option (unless you have a fetish for that sort of thing). So, chairs in the dining room are draped with rain-soaked pants drying out. Shoes are tossed on the heating vents. My curly hair has done its own thing now for longer than I’d like to admit. And while it’s been lovely and warm for this time of year, the rain makes it hard to put on a warm weather outlook.
That’s a moot point. The snows are coming back this weekend. And while I’d like to offer you all more than this small talk about the weather, at this point, it’s all I have to offer. That and one word.