Dear Rain,

Why do you make me so sleepy? How is it that every time you show up I suddenly feel like I've taken a sedative?

And tell me why couldn't this damned sore throat of mine have turned into something more so that I would have had an excuse to stay home and enjoy the sounds of you pitter-pattering across my rooftop?

I think that when I get home from work today I am going to take my shoes off, roll up my pant legs and go play in the rain. (I'm sure that will help this sore throat!)

I now believe that I could never live a productive life in Seattle.
Squeeky