I don't know what is happening to me in my old age. But when it is a wet, dreary day I practically understand the urge to go in the bathroom and start cutting like a goth teenager. I used to love when it rained when I was younger. I don't what changed. Perhaps the shift in attitude has to do with wanting to jump in puddles. My sense of wonder went out with my last pair of goulashes I guess.
I remember loving the rain. The sound of it, the fresh air afterwards, the warmth and renewal of the first glimpse of sun afterwards all promised clean, fresh renewal. Now I just don't want to get my Coach bag wet.