Open Letter to the Weather

The constant patter of rain outside my window that sometimes soothes me like nothing else is now nothing more than a constant taunt. A bully that hangs out around corners waiting for me to walk by so he can knock the books out of my hand for no other reason than to ruin my day. In this case, the bully is God, if you believe in that sort of thing. Or Mother Nature if you take that phrase seriously. I think it just comes down to really bad fucking luck. It does seem uncanny that the weather patterns seem to arrange themselves in such a way that the majority of annual rainfall occurs on days when I have something outdoors planned. This phenomenon appears most frequently when camping is involved. Muddy ground and not-so-waterproof tents are things that are just par for the course when it comes to sleeping under the stars that are above the clouds. Most recently, the rain tried to spoil my trip to Boston but only managed to make it just a little bit more annoying. This morning, as the rain lands on the ground outside like a constant tap on my shoulder to let me know that it's still there just to fuck up my day, I resign. I give in to the precipitation that follows me like the proverbial black cloud and accept my fate. It won't stop me from enjoying the day. I will thrive under the cold drops, taking in the moisture like a starved plant. I won't be finding a new way home just to avoid this ubiquitous thug. I'll stand up to walk straight into its face until it backs down or until I'm done hiking the Pinnacle Trail. Nice try, rain. This is happening.