By Beth Quinn

I fear we are all losing the will to live.

For those of you outside the mid-Hudson, we’ve had six days of sunshine since life began on Earth.

When I look at the National Weather Service map, I see only pictures of Thor throwing tiny little lightning bolts and God bowling in heaven. The sky is black and angry with no stars or moon in the nighttime.

It’s as though the Earth continued to rotate while the atmosphere held still until Orange County arrived under Seattle’s air mass. Then we began spinning again with their gloomy weather above our heads.

I hear it has rained only a half-inch in Washington state this season. I wonder whose weather they have now.

My friend Georgann tells me she has stopped taking all of her lawn chair cushions outside. Between downpours, she said, she brings out a single cushion to sit on so she can carry it in quickly when the rain begins again.

I have begun opening only one window per room. What is the point in opening, closing, opening, closing, opening, closing them all? I don’t want my biceps that well developed.

Fool that I am, I decided this spring would be the right time to buy an umbrella clothesline for the yard. To save energy, I thought. To make the laundry smell sunshiny sweet, I predicted. Ha! What strange optimism I must have been suffering from. I have used it only twice, once in April, then again during that sunny day – you might recall it – two weeks ago.

My new hammock is a sodden mess. I feel so sorry for it. I bought it in May, put it out on its hammock stand and then the skies opened up. I have never used it because it has never been dry enough to lie on. The poor thing seems so dispirited.

But – hark! – Could it be?

I see something rare and beautiful on the weather map three days out – a picture of white, billowy clouds against a blue sky. And there’s that round, yellow sun they told us about when we were school children!

The picture appears under the words “Independence Day.” And there it is again, under the word “Sunday”! It also says: “Mostly sunny.”

Good heavens. What shall I wear?

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