Dripity dripity dripity

A bit more sprightly than simple drip drip drip.

Rain again.

I think we have been transplanted to the ever-wet Venus of 1940s SF.

Effing weather

The effing furnace came on. Middle of effing June, and the effing furnace is running. And that's with the thermostat set to our winter "night setback" temperature for sleeping in flannel 'jammies under comforters.

"They" seem to think we will see the sun tomorrow, special Father's Day gift. I ain't holding my breath.