Insert Sadface

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Yesterday a woman at the park suggested that SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) just *might* be real. In that instant I had a vision of body slamming her to the ground and screaming, "No shit? YA THINK?". It was sunny outside right then. So bright was the sun that I was starting to sweat and was squinting to watch Asher play with his friends. Instead of getting myself arrested, I closed my eyes and pretended I was on the beach. Within the half hour, the sun slipped away again. It was a tease. A filthy tease.

My sister suffers from S.A.D. and years ago when she told me this I tossed it around in my head, realizing that it made a lot sense. I mean, who the hell can live without sunshine? Fictional characters, that's  who. And yet, I'm sure there are people out there who are so busy that they hardly notice the correlation between the local 75 days of rain and the 50 divorces filed at the county courthouse. I am guessing those might be the same people who don't spend a lot of time outside even when it is sunny or perhaps those people are not responsible for any children under the age of 20. Numbers, numbers, psychology stuff.... We good? OK.

Around here, the rainy season is something that is prayed for by Catholics, Latter Day Saints and all eight Jewish families. In fact, because California supplies a quarter of the nations food and nearly 50% of YOUR produce, you better drop to your knees too, because if we don't get the rain, you're going to pay out the nose big time to put dinner on the table. Knowing this, it's hard to begrudge the clouds, and yet.... yet...

I wake up to fog. Fog drifting below the hills, clinging to the trees. I look out the bedroom window and half expect to see William Wallace wave to me just beyond the fence. I WISH to see William Wallace, actually, so I can have something to think about besides the annoying Spare The Air alert that prevents me from lighting a cozy fire and cheering the place up a bit. I drink a large cup of coffee and dress in the recommended layers of sensible boots, warm socks and three shirts that I can peel off as the day goes on and pile back on just after I pick the kids up from school. I play music, loudly, without caring who hears. I turn on every light in the house. I light candles. But it's no use. I am pale. The rain is dripping down the side of the house where the gutters are clogged. The dog is depressed. Insert sad face.

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