The weather these past few days has been glorious.

“Glorious? What in the name of all that is holy is wrong with you? It’s been raining! I hate rain! Rain sucks! I wish it never rained!” Well, yeah, rain is an inconvenience, but when you realize that Virginia is in a five-year drought, and even with the recent precipitation we’re still far behind, rain might appeal just a bit more to you.

My roommate Zac hates the rain. He knows we need it, but he hates it. “I walked to class, and by the time I got there, the front of my pants were soaked,” he said with his usual piss-and-vinegar tone he emits towards something that disgusts him. At least for Zac, he just hates being wet. At least, wet with clothes on.

So I can’t pick on Zac anymore. I too hate being wet when I have my clothes on. But I think my constant exposure to farming communities when I’m home has much to do with my heightened love for rain. Over the summer I worked as a reporter in Lexington, right in the heart of Rockbridge County, between Roanoke and Charlottesville. Farming communities abound there, and I experienced first-hand the hardships people were undergoing because of the drought. Farmers had been selling their winter hay in April, and many were selling their cattle at a loss of tens of thousands of dollars. Cattle were dying because of the scrub vegetation they’d been reduced to eating because it was the only vegetation that grew in such arid conditions.

Just two days ago I saw in The Roanoke Times a picture of Cave Mountain Lake, completely ignored by the local media. It’s dryer than Carvins Cove; so dry it looks like someone just spilled some Deer Park in a puddle of dirt. The dock was in the foreground and about thirty feet away was the water. That’s really, really scary.

I’m sure many of you have noticed the recent influx of filthy cars. The water restrictions imposed by Gov. Mark Warner have kept everyone from washing their cars, watering their gardens and even taking long, luxurious baths, about the only luxury that’s available to anyone with a house with hot water capabilities. So much of what we take for granted that involves water is slipping away from us.

So now we pay $2 or more to get our cars cleaned, we have to wash our dishes differently, and when you get home from a long day at work, you have to take a shower. All of that seems petty. But it’s a part of your life that you’ve become accustomed to. Something you might even have taken for granted. Nonetheless, the little things make all the difference in the world and when they get taken away from us, we notice it more than we thought we would.

I’m not angry at Zac or anyone who is mad about the inconveniences of rain. I hate it just as much as anyone when I can’t go outside. I’m annoyed at people who wish it would never rain and it’s just another reason God hates them (I’m not exaggerating, people do tell me this). You rain haters are welcome to come look at my lawn at home…or rather, my vast collection of crabgrass, mullen and thistle. You can also take a look at the new well my neighbors had to drill because theirs went dry. Or you can talk to the farmer across the road from me about how much you wish it would never rain. I’m sure he has plenty of time to listen to you as he preps his cattle for sale.

Who would appreciate, I mean really appreciate, constant 72 degree temps and clear sky? I know I wouldn’t. Christmas without chill? Fall foliage without a brisk breeze? No, no thanks.

I, for one, am rejoicing when I walk across the grass and my tennis shoes get soaked. Maybe we’re on our way to less starvation among the rural communities and a return to the basic creature comforts we’ve grown so used to, like washing dishes better than a wimpy University-issue dishwasher does.

But let me tell you, those wet socks are a pain in the butt.