A few nights ago, W and I ventured out in a thunderstorm to the drugstore to pick up a few things. Our umbrella didn’t do much against the torrential downpour to keep us dry, and our feet were perpetually underwater the whole walk. I loved it. I’m at my happiest when it’s dark and gloomy. The stormier, the better!
This might not sound terribly healthy, since most people seem to love sunshine and blue skies. Sometimes I call W my sunflower, because I’ve seen him just stand still in the sun with his eyes closed, as if he’s recharging. In a way, I guess he is. We are doomed to be opposites when it comes to temperature and light preferences, and I admit that he is more often the one who quietly sacrifices his ideal comfort level for mine. Something for me to work on.
If W is a sunflower, I suppose I’m a mushroom of some sort then, since I don’t require sun to be happy. I prefer night to day in almost any situation. In college, I used to go for long walks at night by myself without telling anyone. Don’t be like me, kids! Tell people before you do things like that so they at least know what direction to look for the body if an axe-murderer happened to be out on a stroll at the same time. Back to mushrooms, I learned recently that fungi are their own kingdom – they’re not plants like I thought! I knew I belonged in another world!
I’d take cool and cold over warm and hot, any day. It seems as if my mortal enemy, summer, never fails to be hellishly warm for weeks or months at a time, while winter is my fair weather friend. I didn’t go into this with the intention of making that joke, just so you know. I’m calling it like I see it, and to winter, I say “J’accuse!” Fair weather friend!