Saturday, 18 October 2014


It's been beautiful weather all week long. Sunny days, from bright early in the morning all the way through to the evening. Extended thanks to daylight savings. Long, hot, sunny days.

I'd be celebrating except that it's hard to enjoy them from inside an office. The concrete and glass seem to deflect all the goodness of the sun away. And the warmth outside is no match for our home-grade air-conditioning units vainly attempting to air-condition a commercial premises.

When you're locked in all day long the weather outside either doesn't matter at all, you're not out in it to care, or it matters a lot, you're not out in it to be carefree.

But it has been consistently nice all week long, so I was lulled into the expectation that I'd have a nice weekend. This would obviously entail finishing off the tag-end of the gardening, but at least the pain caused by that experience would be offset by the warm sun on the back of my neck. I love that. And the way it warms your hair up so if you crush it down against your scalp it's hot hot hot.

The day was still warm this morning too. I got out of bed unreasonably early in order to beat the morning shoppers at the supermarket. It was still so warm from Friday that I only dressed in a T-shirt (and jeans - don't be rude!)

When we hauled our groceries out to the car however, it was pretty obvious that a different story was well on its way. Dark skies loaded the horizon. By the time it got to lunch the wind outside was cold. By afternoon tea (and yes I do measure my days out by meals) it was spitting. I don't know if you can hear it now, but yes - that's full-on rain outside now. Another great Saturday.

And that leads me to my question.

Why is it that the weather is more often crappy on the weekend than during the week?

It's shorter - right? The week is long. Why doesn't all the rain happen during the longest part of the week instead of piling its awful self into the two short days that I have off?


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