You're on my list, Weather.

This is something I wrote a few days ago. As I sit in my air-conditioned house (and you'll know why it's air conditioned by the end of this post), I’m still experiencing the angry twinge that caused me to write this in the first place.

7:00PM, Friday, July 31^st.

Yesterday, they (by they, I mean Weather.com) said that today was going to be a rainy day.

I told my friends. I made plans to enjoy this wonderful, wet day. I imagined the blog post I was going to write with some cool picture of me walking somewhere in the rain and loving every minute of it. Because rainy days are different than regular days. It’s a day that requires us to do things differently, like say, read a major portion of a book. Drink some tea. Carry an umbrella. Rainy days are good.

This morning I checked the weather and it said that it wouldn’t rain until four. That’s okay; I can wait to open this meteorological gift, I thought.

Then I checked a little later and it said that I would have to wait for somewhere around eight o'clock. Maybe.

As I look now, it says we’ll probably never get rain again.

Really, weather? Really? WHAT GIVES YOU THE NERVE, WEATHER?! How dare you!

If this was like National Lampoon’s Vacation, I could hold a toy gun to your head and force you to take me on all the rides at Wally World. But no, Weather, I can’t hold a toy gun to your head and force you to take me on all the rides at Wally World, because that wouldn’t really make a point, would it?

I have no choice but to boycott you, Weather. That’s right. No more Weather for me until I get the rain I deserve. Maybe that’ll get you off your high horse, Mr. I’m-just-going-to-lead-Brian-on-and-pretend-like-I-can-actually-make-him-happy. 

Screw you.