When We Talk About the Weather

I’m aware it’s wicked predictable that I’m obsessed with the weather, me hailing from Massachusetts and all (pun intended, always). But still: I don’t get the people who weren’t wasted by this last spate of swampy days; who aren’t deeply relieved by the cooler temperatures of today. When it grows as muggy as it did over the weekend I turn into a dirty, hot, wet towel who simply cannot think–let alone answer emails, be clever at dinner, or, yoiks, don grownup-lady clothes and lipstick. There’s a reason we always talk about the weather, and it’s not that we have nothing else (polite) to discuss. It’s because weather matters even more than we controlling humans care to admit.  A cigar may never be a cigar but what we really talk about when we talk about the weather is, in fact, weather.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy