My rain dance

This weekend I bought a new pair of windshield wipers.  This may not seem exciting to everyone, but it was fantastically awesome to me.  Sometimes the small pleasures mean the most.  My last pair of windshield wipers were rusted, warped, and made visibility worse than doing nothing, so it was time.  Imagine: streak-free shine!  Seeing the road!  No squeaking!  Goodness all around, I tell you.

The purchase was also my version of doing the rain dance.  Don’t get me wrong, I love California’s (usually) clear skies and the constant warmth, but I’ve been aching for a change of pace and a little weather.  I’m from the East Coast, where it pours so hard you have to pull your car off the road and wait for the storm to pass.  You get used to slogging around in puddles, squish your toes through the mud, wear rain boots, and cute hats.  I’m the kind of person who dances in the rain.  I love everything about it – the way it feels, the way the pavement smells in the rain, the sound of it on the ground, the roof of my house, the roof of my car.  Rain means you curl up with a good book and a mug of hot chocolate.  It means writing a story, watching movies, slowing down.

So yeah, I hope it rains.

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