When It Rains (Part 1)

“Rain drops keep fallin' on my head. Just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed. Nothing seems to fit. Oh, raindrops keep fallin' on my head Keep a-fallin' . . .”

It's always a gamble when the weather calls for rain. Regardless of what the weather man says, you never quite know what it's going to do to the world or what it's going to do to you. Of all the things we claim to be masters over, it's the weather we still haven't figured out how to control.

What was it Mark Twain said, something about everyone complaining but no one doing anything about it? That's about right. Everyone complains and every time the skies are dark and the little pitter patter of rain drops start the DJ's all over the world play that damn song.

And until those raindrops come you never know what it'll be; never know how you'll feel. No matter how much you look at the weather reports, it never seems to matter and it's infuriating. It's like they just can't figure it out. They just can't tell you what the rain drops are bringing with them today, or if they're coming at all.

And even when they're happy it's still the darkness, the dreariness, that gets to you. When they're happy it's like you're on Zoloft, like under the skin you can feel that you're sad but on the surface everything is fine. It's just like a it was a sun shiny day. Only it's not.

The medicated rainbow of weather, that's what they call it, and it's pretty close to the truth. But I guess that's what I get for moving to the North West and making it worse, here where it rains every day. I thought it would be exciting and God knows David was into it. He said it would be wonderful here, even with the rain and everything, and lord knows I'd believe anything he says. Or did, back when he was still here. Back when our little picturesque apartment, the one that was “perfect for a young couple who works from home,” was still the home for a couple. Not just me and the cats.

Funny, it never occurred to me to wonder if the cats get affected by the rain. They only have two emotions anyway, hungry and sleepy. I envy them. Instead I get to run the whole gamut, even though I stay inside, and especially when it rains. Maybe this one will bring something exciting like the other day when the president got caught in some of it on the way to a press conference and it was an angry day. I'll never forget him screaming at the camera, usually so composed, and hoping against all hope that he wasn't about to start world war three.

“I don't give a fuck what they say! They fucking invaded Ukraine and that's what it is, their goddamned ballots be damned. We'll bomb the shit out 'em and for fucks sake I don't give a shit what the EU thinks. Bunch of pansy assed fuckers trying to boss us around.”

Of course about then, a Secret Service guy swept him off the podium, bringing him down as he yelled for a “god damned, mother fucking” cigarette. It's funny how we build up safety valves. Funny how we adapt. The press secretary begged for forgiveness after that and I guess it came. People kind of get it I guess; I mean, everybody gets rained on occasionally. Luckily Moscow was being hit by a melancholic sort of rain and they didn't feel like they could fight back. Things have a tendency of working out that way.

An angry rain might not be so bad anyway. At least it might let me get out some of my anger at David. Anger at him bringing me here, where I don't know anyone and then leaving me with the cats and the bills. Leaving me all alone. The angry rain wouldn't be so bad and anything would be better than another horny rain. God that's worse than any other, especially when you're alone. It does make me glad that I can just stay inside though, that I can just sit here squirming and work in PhotoShop. Those aren't good days to go out in the cities, that's for sure.

“Raindrops keep fallin' on my head. But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turning red. Crying's not for me. Cause I ain't gonna stop the rain by complaining.”