I enjoy parties like I enjoy the rain.
As a general rule, it’s not pleasant to be in. Mind you, when the conditions are right – a warm thick summer rain on a lazy evening – standing in the rain and letting it wash over you can be lovely. Mostly, though, when you’re actually in the rain, it’s a nuisance. It’s overwhelming, it leaves you cold and shivering, and it won’t let you alone.
Almost any rain is nice, though, when it’s viewed through a window from a warm position indoors. Through the glass, all you hear is the rich murmur of droplets cresting and falling, melting into itself and bathing you in white noise. You feel safe, protected, nurtured: your own dry space is delineated by the presence of rain everywhere else. It’s the kind of place where you could fall asleep in the pleasant, distant hum.
I don’t look forward to rainy weather; when rain is forecasted, I think about the extra hassle of riding my bike and dealing with slippery brakes, of water soaking through my backpack and dampening my notebooks. When it’s here, though, I find that as long as I keep the rain itself at a distance, I can enjoy it thoroughly.