But y tho, rain?

It doesn't rain in in Los Angeles. Until this morning when it did.

Rain is weird. Maybe it just seems that way because it never happens here, like how some people think dipping french fries in milkshakes is weird. But really that doesn't compare to tons and tons and tons of water falling out of nowhere.

There's something about rain that makes it seem like being inside is better than it usually is. I can sit at my desk brooding and sulking over an essay with my back hunched and my curtains drawn, my desk lamp flickering and my Chopin nocturnes blaring, and not question myself even a little.
It's raining. Having fun would be ridiculous.


But then I realize there are things called umbrellas. More importantly I realize that weekends have been slipping through my fingers without rain. Rain just makes it easier to forget that I have friends other than Hamlet's soliloquy in Act 4.

At one point in the day I heard a little "bloop" from Skype. My face lit up. 

False alarm though, just somebody who wanted help with physics homework. At first they just begged and pleaded while I sat there uninterested.

It would be nice if I could say "then everything changed, I realized that THIS WAS the social contact the rain had starved me of". 

But I can't.

Because when I finally asked them what the problem was, they said it was about finding speed of a raindrop. I hung up.