The rain is gone

I find that I love San Francisco more on days following rain. It's feels so nice to walk down the street and not feel drops running down the sides of my face or my jacket becoming ever more damp the water starts seeping into my clothes -- so much for a "rain coat." Not only was today dry, the evening air felt almost balmy. Rain in Northern California feels like the region has a cold or when there's a storm, the flu. In other places like Seattle, rain is more of a familiar friend making a visit, depositing life giving water to the earth. Around here, it's like misery has arrived. People can't navigate roads, they are extra rude on the streetcars, they don't even want to leave the house. The fact that we need the precious droplets to quell a drought isn't much consolation. It seems to me that rain and San Francisco just don't go very well together like peanut butter and jelly on a hamburger bun. Sure you can eat it, but simething is going to feel off. When it rains, people act as if the universe is punishing us and I just want to shake them and say, stop your whining, it's not like it's snow! To which a typical Californian might respond, snow, like in Tahoe? This is what happens when you live in a place with magical weather, a slight change feels like a jolt to the system. Oh well, the sun will be back before the puddles dry up.