the pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves

Yesterday I stepped outside for my run and quickly regretted bringing along my iPod: it was going to rain. The air was thick. It smelled like wet and cold and flowers and spring and happy. I love the rain more than any weather in all my experiences. Especially cold rain. Yes, on a day-to-day I need some sun, some heat (notice I didn't say do I ever need snow. hint. hint.) But a cold rain, or better yet the point right before it is going to rain when the air is thick and it smells something like what I imagine heaven to smell like. Or better yet when it is a relentless thunderstorm... just makes me internally happy like not many things can do. It never did rain. And I figured it was my fault because I had been stressed about my ipod. My roommate tells me I have something her psychology professor describes (I forget the name.. something about complex, compulsatory, control.. something) about thinking you have control over things you don't actually have control over. Like the weather. Or A-Rod dropping dead tonight.. But I anyways feel guilty for (maybe) denying the population of Minneapolis of the beauty that is precipitation.