OK, it’s wet. OK, everyone’s miserable. OK, the sun shines on every other city in the country and Mother Nature is spitting on Boston.
But instead of thinking of this weather front as a personal affront, why not grab onto that silver lining and recognize the rainfall for what it is: a respite from the rat race known as summer. Yes, summer, the ultimate setup for personal and recreational failure, when every day is supposed to be a mini-vacation but usually ends with you packing away your shorts and tank tops in mid-September while wondering how it is you never made it to Woodman’s. Talk about seasonal pressure.
But now, thanks to unremitting clouds and drizzle, it’s off. No need to squeeze into the bathing suit. Or do your hair (it’ll frizz up faster than a flash flood).
Or sport a tan. Or go for that walk or run or bike ride or show up for bootie boot camp at 6 a.m. It’s pouring!
As for the beach, no wonder everyone’s lying down, exposing themselves to deadly UVB rays. Getting there ... more.
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