It’s raining again. Again. Like every day.
I don’t mind the rain. It’s the humidity I can’t stand.
It rains for an hour, two max and then it’s 95 degrees and muggy.
Your shirt sticks to you, you’re drenched the moment you leave your house.
“What’s the point of showering,” I want to shout.
God, I can’t wait for fall, and the turning of the leaves.
The promise of cool air and brisk mornings. Hoodie weather and hot cocoa.
It’s raining again.