I will learn to love the rain.

I decided that I need to be less pessimistic about the not-so-favorable weather. A new mantra was in order:

I will learn to love the rain.

People tried to encourage me when I moved to Seattle. I heard it all: "It rains almost constantly for six months straight, but it's only a light drizzle." "It doesn't actually downpour; it's more of a mist." "Real Seattleites don't use umbrellas, just raincoats." "You get used to the wet a few months in." "At least the sun comes out a little everyday." "At least it doesn't actually get cold, per se."

I'm not really sure which of those comments are encouragements, but I decided to accept them as fact and try to be as Seattlelite-ish as possible. Looking at the weather report for the week, there was at least an 80% chance of rain everyday. Here we go.

I try to go out for a long walk everyday. I'm not quite brave enough to run in the rain, so my entire running routine is shot, which is really disappointing, more so towards myself than the weather. Excuses! But I've got my walks. I have yet to invest in a raincoat, and I hate getting raindrops on my glasses and dripping off my hair, so I have also not succumbed to the "Real Seattleites don't use umbrellas..." My umbrella is small. Really small. It keeps half of me dry as I walk: whose idea was it to put the handle in the middle of the umbrella? Sure, it looks nice, all symmetrical and what not, but it's not very practical, not that I have any better ideas. I contemplate all of this as I step into a puddle that looks shallower than it turns out to be. Water soaks through my sneakers and seeps up my socks.

I will learn to love the rain.

My long walk for Saturday was a trip to Ballard. On a map, it didn't look too far. You know, just down the hill and across the canal and a few blocks up to Goodwill and then back down to Market Street, I figured, to see what is good on the main strip. As I stepped outside, the sun was out. Puffy cumulous clouds scattered the sky, but a grey curtain loomed in the East. Not willing to take chances, I grabbed my umbrella. What was the weather forecast talking about? This is great! I made my way across the seemingly endless Ballard Bridge and ventured into the neighborhood.

I dropped off a bag of clothes at Goodwill and looked around a bit. Content in my findings, two solid trunks that I would have to come back for another day in my car, I decided to make my way to Market Street. I passed a tent of puppies that were up for adoption. I looked in each of the cages at the sad eyes staring back and wished that I could take them all home.

"We've got about a half an hour until the rain hits," a man said to the woman in charge of the tent. The thought briefly crossed my mind that maybe I should start for home. I had a long uphill walk ahead of me. It's just rain! I've got my umbrella anyways.

I will learn to love the rain.

I kept walking. Cupcake Royale. Yet another Starbucks. I wasn't too impressed thus far. However, after downing an extra large mug of tea on my walk down, I decided to take a quick stop in Starbucks, only to find that you had to have a passcode for the bathroom. Well, I refuse to purchase a cup of coffee to release a previous cup of tea. It just seems counterproductive. I can wait. I'll head home soon.

I walked down a few more blocks. I stopped in a few second-hand shops, hoping to find a pair of boots for rain walking. No luck. Finally, I was feeling tired. The air had cooled, and I felt it ache in my feet. I decided to go home. And the rain started in a light drizzle.

I will learn to love the rain.

I opened my umbrella and walked back in the direction of the bridge. The rain came down harder. Maybe I can take a bus... I checked the OneBusAway app on my phone. Apparently, the bus from Ballard to Queen Anne only runs Monday through Friday in the mornings. Well, it was none of those times. Guess I'm walking.

I felt a bit resentful towards the bus stops that I walked by--none of them were going in my direction. Maybe I could take a bus to the U District and then go to Queen Anne from there. Or I could take the new D-line to downtown and then go from there! Everything was out-of-the-way, and the tea was urging that I take the shortest route home. I opened the Maps app--why do I so rely on my smartphone?--which showed that I was still three walking miles from home. Was it really that far? I wasn't even to the bridge yet! Three miles seems so long when walking in the rain when you have to pee.

I made it to the bridge, and instantly, the wind picked up. Why was I not thinking that the bridge would obviously leave me more exposed? The wind pulled my umbrella, and it pulled me along like a kite. Finally, it got so strong that I couldn't even hold the umbrella half-open, and I had to collapse it and face the wind and rain unarmed. Now I see why Seattleites don't use umbrellas. I wish I was exaggerating when I say that the wind was so strong that I had to hold my elbow across my forehead and walk with my eyes shut as the water pelted at my skin in sharp ticks. Tears escaped the far corners of my eyes, even though they were closed, and I kept walking. I just have to make it across the bridge where the wind won't be so bad.

This was more than a drizzle. I'm not used to being caught in bad weather. In fact, I typically avoid it at all costs. My mantra was failing me. My entire frontside was soaked from the windblown rain. Did I mention how endless the Ballard Bridge felt when I walked across it earlier? It felt three times as long in the poor weather.

I. Will. Love! The. Rain!

Every once in a while I opened my eyes to assess my progress. I felt so foolish walking with my eyes closed across a bridge with water on one side and traffic on the other. At least there were cement barriers forming a walkway on either side--pretty safe, I'd say. As I peeled apart my eyelids and looked down, I noticed my untied shoelace. You've got to be kidding me! I'm not stopping now! I imagined how silly I must have looked to all of the smart people whirring by in their cars.

And just like that, I made it across the bridge. The wind stilled. The rain stopped. I looked up, and there was no evidence above me that a storm had even passed through. The sun peaked from behind one of the fluffy cumulous clouds that mirrored the ones from earlier. WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!

I assessed the damage through spotted lenses: my pants were soaked, hell, everything was soaked. And my shoe was still untied, of course. Okay. At least I know what I'm working with. I started up the hill.

I will learn to love the rain.

When I got to the top of the hill, I looked between houses to see the bridge and the canal below. I don't know what I was thinking in walking to Ballard. When I had told one of my housemates that walking to Ballard was my plan for the day, she seemed shocked. Seeing the distance covered, I understood why.

Well, if I pee my pants, I think my jeans are wet enough that no one could tell the difference. Plus, I'd be warm. No, that's no excuse. I'm almost home anyways. Though, I have to admit--why I have to, I'm not sure, but it seems funny as an afterthought--I passed a yard which had a sign reading, "Children's play area. No Poop. No Pee." and I was really tempted to piss there just in spite of the sign. I was forced to remind myself that I am a lady!

I counted down the blocks to home, naming which street came next in efforts to memorize the maze of my neighborhood. It's not a sensible pattern, so I missed a few streets, which entirely killed any patience I had left, which was practically none. I'm so good at this optimism thing! (Cue my mother saying that I have my father's short temper...)

Finally, I made it to the gate, went in, kicked off my shoes, unlocked the door, half-limped--trying to keep my socks on and trying not to step on the soaked bottom seams of my pant legs--down the stairs, dropped my umbrella, jacket, and backpack on the floor and ran to the bathroom where I stripped down.

Relieved and entirely exhausted, I returned to my room and collapsed on my bed half-naked. I will never move again. I looked at my thighs which burned a cold red. All I want is a bath... So I went and sat down in a hot shower. Close enough. I let the water run over every part of me, until the red skin turned pale and then red again in warmth. I emerged and bundled up in the comfiest clothes that were clean in the drawers. I want to stay warm forever! I sat in the chair in my bedroom huddled up to a cup of tea and wondered what warm weather felt like. I tried to remember Arizona just a few short weeks ago--has it been weeks already?--but the sense of the heat evaded me. I looked out my window and saw that the sky had greyed again.

I will learn to love the rain.