I love the rain. I crack open the windows to hear the sound, take walks in my raincoat, inhale the fleeting smell. I should probably live in London or Seattle, where sunshine is a celebrated exception and rain is a way of life.

Hugh loves the rain, too. Today, he spent almost 15 minutes standing in a puddle and rode his scooter in the rain. Then he said with a giant sigh, “I like this rain.”

Tonight, I’m going to eat spicy food, read a old Russian mystery, and go to bed early to get ready for work tomorrow. Hugh’s school is closed, though, and he is staying with dad on President’s Day. Or as Hugh called it, “Obama Day.”

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