Cabin Fever

I've spent less than two full days inside my apartment (save for a short trip to the convenience store) and I've already got cabin fever. Despite the urge to leave my apartment today, the rain is keeping me from doing anything. Ridiculously, I no longer own an umbrella or a raincoat. I threw away the last umbrella I owned in a fit of frustration because the mechanism keeping it in an open position was broken. I hadn't bothered to buy a new umbrella.

As for raincoats, I've been looking far and wide for a decent, durable, and non-ugly raincoat, but no one seems to sell them anywhere. The last time I went to my parents' house, I brought back the raincoat I'd worn in high school. This January I put it on to deal with a particularly vicious rainstorm. And I looked particularly idiotic wearing a coat that was three sizes too small. It barely went down past my hips, and the buttons bulged out, threatening to pop at any moment in protest of the size of my non-fourteen-year-old self.

Truth be told, it's the psychological effects of rain that prevent me from doing much, whether I'm at home or elsewhere. Partly I resent it because I enjoy riding my bike, but don't want to ride it in the rain. And then I feel paralyzed, as if I can't go anywhere if I can't bike. The rain induces a state of lethargy and mild depression in me. This should probably be taken into account when I decide where to live next. I can't believe I got through living in Seattle. And that was for years.