rain, rain go away

"God is in the rain." So sayeth Evie in the V for Vendetta movie. For her, the rain was cleansing, washing away the lingering stink of torture and madness. For me... not so much. The dark, forbidding skies do little but bring a sense of hopelessness. The ceaseless patter of rain makes me numb and lethargic. There may be a god in the rain, but it's a god of despair and apathy, not the miraculous, life-affirming god of Evie Hammond. "We need the rain." How often do you hear that phrase? Sure we do. Rationally, I know that. It fills the world with green growing things that give us food and oxygen. But there's something deep down in our primal selves, something not rational at all, that is touched by rainy autumn days. A shadowy reflection of ourselves that acknowledges the inherent futility of life and imminence of death. It presses down on us with the weight of our regrets and taunts us with our fear of an uncertain future. Or maybe I'm just irritated that I have to drive an hour each way to work and the rain makes people drive like morons around here.