Rain, cool and damp, has fallen at least five days out of every seven for a month or more, not an entirely unheard of occurrence, but certainly the reverse of what I think of for the end of spring and the start of summer. Advantages include cleansing the air of pollen that affects so many of us, low danger of fires starting or spreading rapidly, raising the water table to ensure that wells shouldn't dry up in the dead heat of summer, keeping air temperature cooler and delaying the need for the power sucking air conditioner, less desire to loll around outdoors on a lawn chair with a book instead of doing indoor chores or school work, and a lovely lushly green environment. All are very worthy reasons to welcome the rain if not with open arms at least with approval. However, rain makes me restless.
I'm not talking just about showers or storms with lightning and thunder, occurrences that naturally cause agitation with the visual and auditory stimulation and energizing ozone in the air. What I have in mind are the long slow days of drizzle to downpours when mental lethargy sets in, and the cold precipitation seems to limit my options. I'm not a fan of feeling chilly drops trickling down my neck or gathering on appendages to drip off or uncomfortably soaking my socks. I don't like sitting on dampness and then carrying the sogginess with me. Yep, I'll say it: I'm a wimp. That means I'm limited to indoor activities if I want to stay warm and dry. Limits make me restless, and this one is no exception.
It's not that I can't sit and read one of the several books I have going, or add to my jewelry inventory when I'm indoors. Winter time proves the fallacy of that idea. Perhaps the problem lies partly in the fact that, indoors, on vacation, I'm faced with the other stuff that I should be doing. That cluttered table, that stack of magazines to be clipped, the pile of clothing that needs to be mended or the others to be sorted and donated quietly but persistently call to me. The bench covered with odd items that need to find homes preys on my conscience and makes me feel guilty for not taking care of them before I indulge in more pleasurable activities. Of course the adult thing to do would be to dig in to one or more of the tasks needing to be done and then reward myself with an equal dose of tasks that I want to do. The key word there is "adult," and those who know me smile rather than attribute that quality to me. I'm still a kid at heart, and kids balk at limits. There's the rub.
I have to admit, though, that rain makes me restless in general, too, so my immaturity isn't the sole cause. The other sources include conditioning to expect that summer equals sunshine, the desire for deep warmth after a long winter, and the need for some vitamin D delivered by the sun. I've waited through 9 seemingly endless months of short days and bone chilling temperatures to enjoy long sunny days wandering in and out of the house, doing what I please, when I please. I deserve it! That delayed gratification stuff is for the birds! This gloomy rain had better back off soon before I become even more of a grouch. June, it's time for a string of nice warm, dry, sunny days to ease this restless soul.
