Sun Drunk Love

Today was one of Seattle's six-or-eight beautiful days of the year.When the sun comes out in Seattle, the city snaps into a sort of Emergency Mode. It’s like a snow day in the Northeast, or when there’s a tornado warning in the Midwest, or a Hurricane Alert in the Southeast.

The Emo Cotton Ball doesn't want to do anything but sit around listening to Bonny Prince Billy...

“I always feel different when the sun comes out,” a friend said recently.  Like me, my friend grew up in a relentlessly sunny corner of this little blue dot we call home. “It’s like, whatever I’m worried about, or in a bad mood over, it just doesn’t seem to matter any more.”

I feel exactly the same way--utterly transformed by the weather, to the point that I wonder if it’s not a sign of something being wrong with me. But then, I start to think that I have some sort of meteorological version of Stockholm Syndrome.

Remember that Zoloft ad (maybe it still exists; I don't watch a lot of TV ads any more) with the cotton ball who's all sad, and the rain cloud follows him around (rain clouds are totally creepy stalker types)? That's exactly how I feel when the weather is dismal.

But then, when the sun comes out, it's like the metaphorical cloud is lifted with the actual cloud. If you're bummed out by this, doctors will tell you you need Zoloft. But, maybe ... instead of being crazy for being happy in nice weather, I'm...normal? Maybe the weather is the asshole in this analogy, not me?