The Worst Day of the Year finally shows up

Sunday was supposed to be the annual Worst Day of the Year bike ride, which I did not participate in but I can tell you that the weather didn’t cooperate with the theme, bringing us no rain at all with mild temperatures and even some intermittent sun. I saw them riding by at various parts of town throughout the day, hundreds of them, clumps at a time being assisted across busy streets by tall, traffic-stopping women dressed up as inspirational figures, among them the Statue of Liberty and a cowgirl.

I don’t generally go on these marathonic expeditions. If I did, I would be last. Why do I need to sign up for a ride with hordes of other people when I can be last all by myself any day of the week?

Barring tragedy and misfortune and speaking strictly of weather, a good example of the Worst Day of the Year would be today. It’s pouring its darndest out there. I’m only now realizing that I’ve wasted about twenty years of my life feeling sorry for all those people who live in cold climates, because wet cold is a lot more miserable than dry cold. It seeps into your marrow and stays there for the season. So I am taking back twenty years’ worth of misappropriated pity and directing it back onto myself right here in Oregon and am wallowing in it heartily. Feel free to join in if you’re from the area.

I noticed in all that sunny cold weather we had, even while it snowed, how much easier life seems when you’re not covered in spewing, sopping drippiness all the time, and when the world isn’t reduced to an array of grays and browns. When my sister came to visit, the first thing she said after we hugged in the airport was “Everyone is grey here.” And then I knew I hadn’t just been imagining it all these years.

Next:
How I Stand It: My Rain Gear, with photos