It's raining.
I posted about rain once, about the thunder, and I threw out some stupid metaphors that, inevitably and stereotypically, had to do with bowling.
It's sunny but it's raining. It's sunny and it's clouding- how does that even work? It was sunning an hour ago, you couldn't even smell the rain coming. Couldn't see it.
There were probably some clouds but they were white, the fluffy kind, the kind that apparently takes two seconds to sink and get darker. Cumulonimbus. They drilled that into all of us when we were in third grade, they gave us a bunch of cotton balls and told us to make some clouds, to label them.
I can't even imagine all the things it's raining on. Someone's bench cushions that were left out when the sun was still there, was still a tangible thing that you could see. Kid's teddy bear that he left out last night when the sun was still there, that is never, ever supposed to get wet. Things that no one wanted wet, things that people never wanted ruined.
But it just turned out that way. And sure, they could try their best to fix it, to replace the brokenness, but they don't bother.
Short post, I know.
But hey. That could be an obscure metaphor for something.
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