Great Minds Think Different

The first thing I noticed this morning, upon waking up, was a constant light hissing sound coming from outside, like faint static on a radio. For the past three months, the things that have woken me up are the harsh early-morning chill of Silicon Valley, and the sun flickering on my face as my window blinds wave around in the breeze. The early-morning chill was still there, but not the sun. I rubbed my eyes and looked towards the window. There was no sun outside. It just wasn’t there. And there was still this weird staticky noise.

I got up, went over to the window and peeked out through the slats. First I noticed that everything outside was wet. This was totally unexpected. For the past three months, I’d lived in a place where the only reasons for something outside to be wet were a) there was a sprinkler within ten feet of it, or b) it was on the grounds of a car wash. But here, this morning, everything was wet. I wondered where that much water could possibly have come from. As soon as that thought came through my head, I got my answer: there was water falling from the sky. It was as if that gray blanket that was obscuring the sun had been dipped in the ocean and left to dry right over me.

Needless to say, I was baffled. Water doesn’t just fall from the sky! Everyone knows water comes from faucets and hoses! What was this all about? It was ridiculous!

Then I remembered: I’m in Pittsburgh. It rains here. Yes, I’m back.