Tim Heffernan says gray days are sunshine for the soul:
It makes hot coffee taste better. It encourages barstool camaraderie. Rain tip-tapping on the roof is like natural Ambien: you’ll never sleep better than in the middle of a downpour. Rain makes you want to read a book, which is handy, because rain recalls the literary pleasures of London…It’s always raining in spy novels, too, including the best one ever written. Rain soaks the grounds of all the bravest battlefields, drips down the walls of all the oldest castles, provides a somber backdrop for all the gravest decisions. Rain also floods everyday streets, closes everyday airports, and brings everyday trains to a halt. Rain makes life grimmer and harder, and that is the secret of its greatness: it gives you an excuse to stay in, tune out, and have the world to yourself for an afternoon.
It isn’t raining in Bangalore, it’s just gray. Overcast and cloudy. I wake up and it smells like rainy monsoons in Mangalore. Lunch time and I still need to clutch my coat a little tighter. Come evening, it’s still cloudy and brrrr cold. In other words, I love how it is.
I feel alive and I like myself a little more on days like these. I wake up a little early, dance around the house while brushing my teeth and brewing the coffee, I’m still dancing when I’m holding the paper in my hand and going from room to room getting myself together, picking pieces of myself from the night before. I have time and enough love for myself in me to curl my eyelashes and blush my cheekbones a li'l bronze. I also have the spunk to stand in front of the mirror and pout and purr while tracing out my lips with the new lipstick. I sip the coffee much more slowly but with more love, I match my shoes to my handbag and then run-run-run out of the door. I love the grays in the skies. I told you, I love myself more on days like these.
Do you know what I mean?