I know I complain about the sun, and you hear me rejoice when there is any cloud cover. I’ve lived in sunny sunny sunny Los Angeles for thirteen years and I still can’t believe it because I HATE the sun and yet, here I am. And my husband’s from PALM SPRINGS (which may as well be sitting directly on the sun for all I know). You make plans and God says welcome to age spots at 30.

You must know that I fantasize about clouds daily. Whenever I see a picture of a cloud-covered afternoon in a park, or a grey day in Oregon or Washington or Ireland or Scotland or London (or MICHIGAN), I try to figure out how to get a job there and how I can convince my husband to leave his home state and his writing partner and the film business he’s most passionate about so I can not squint so much and go for a run in the middle of the day without wanting to vomit.

I’m selfish. I want clouds more than I want most things. Clouds make the world quiet. Easier to move about in, especially in this crazy city. Clouds seem to have an effect similar to Valium on the residents. They drive slower (or don’t leave their homes at all). This works for me.

How say you? Do you live with clouds, and if so, can I move in?