Yeah, it's wet out.

I like the rain.

I mean, it's dreary and wet and such, but I love the sound of it. I like how it looks when it's splashing on windshields and in puddles. I used to take photos of it any chance I had (I've been lazy about photographing anything since February 22, 2010 though).

When we lived in the other place, though, rain was not my friend. It flooded the basement nearly every time, soaking the carpet and growing mold in random places (and of course, our shitty rental company, A+ Rental Realty in Sioux Falls, refused to do much of anything about it (but I'll get into all that another time, of course)), and causing tons of stress.

Here, not so much a problem, so I'm back to enjoying it.

I like how it is a lullaby that sings me to sleep as I snuggle up with a blanket in the middle of the day. Though, that's not always a possibility, like.. when I'm at work. (I envy the babies instead.)

I don't much care for, of course, my hair getting all frizzy and six inches high off my head, but hey, whatever.

I feel bad, though, because my husband has to work in the rain, and that's just miserable. Especially when it's chilly out. I guess when he gets home tonight I'll have to wrap my arms around him and give him a big warm hug.

Wendell... doesn't so much like the rain. I think it's actually driving him crazy. It's been raining fairly steadily since yesterday. This morning, I went into the living room, and he's going balls-up-berserk-tastic as he ran from the kitchen to the chair, scooting the chair back a few inches at a time as he bounced against it and back to the kitchen and to the hall and around me and to the chair and running into me and... you get the hint. I think he lost it. Though, he seems pretty content next to me right now, lying comfortably on the floor.

When I got into my car and turned on my iPod this morning, in an ironic twist of melody, the first three songs that played, in shuffle mode even were "Rain" by Creed, "Please Don't Stop the Rain" by James Morrison, and "Rain King," by the Counting Crows. (No joke.)

A few months ago, the week of our anniversary, Jake and I got caught in a torrential downpour as we ran into Starbucks to beat the closing time. It was awesome. I laughed so hard. It was like something just out of a romantic comedy.

Not so fun, however, was the point at which I was driving down Cliff on the way to work and a pick-up truck comes up benext to (haha, I can't believe I just typed that) me and moved, barely quicker than I was, through gigantic puddles. It sprayed my car and windshield so badly I couldn't see for about 15 seconds. I was having a miniature panic attack thinking for sure the person behind me was either going to hit me, or I'd accidentally swerve into him or the lane next to me. Ack.

So, there you have it, a random, out-of-sequence posting about various rain topics.