It rained yesterday.
Okay, I know, it’s not breaking news. But I’d forgotten what winter rain was like.
When I lived in Portland, I never thought anything of the rain. I rarely checked the weather report, because let’s be real, it was going to rain almost daily from October to May. I donned my purple rain shell every single morning, and never carried an umbrella.
Umbrellas are a sign of weakness in Portland. If you carry an umbrella, people think less of you–either you’re a wimp or a foreigner. Plus, it doesn’t rain hard enough to make it worth it to haul one around when you’ve got on your trusty parka.
I put “umbrella” on my college to-buy list. Central New York has fewer rain days than back home, but the rain is much heavier and accompanied by numbing winds that blow uphill from the lake. Step outside in your rain jacket and your hood will instantly fly off your head. Take a few steps and your upper body will be drenched–the rain will have already soaked through your shell (curse you, breathable water-repellent fabrics)–and you’ll be miserable.
The good news is umbrellas are socially acceptable here, so I’ve been taking advantage of that.
The bad news is my rain boots started to break, and of course I didn’t realize until after my friend and I jumped in a puddle (“why not?” we said, and then I realized why not).
It doesn’t matter that much, though, because today it snowed. Time to bring out the snow boots.