It happened in 1995. I came to Seattle from Michigan for a job interview, and had three days of weather… well… like this. I don't know how much the weather had to do with it, but they offered me the job, and I took it.
In June, I came back with Scarecrow and Tuffy to find a place to live for ourselves and five English setters. That was an adventure in itself, but it took place in weather pretty much like this.
Having been here ever since, I've found that egg yolks are real rarity in a weather forecast for May, and not much more likely for June.
That's OK. I don't feel like I'd been misled. I figured the stereotype of the gray, rainy Pacific Northwest had to be based on something. I remembered the gray, rainy year I spent in Portland, before my time in Michigan. It didn't come as a surprise.
The drippy gray weather wears on you after a while, and I whine about it, like everybody here does, but I don't really mind. It's just the price you pay for being able to truly appreciate omelette weather. After a long, gray, drippy winter, it's hard to overestimate the effect a bright sunny day can have on one's outlook on life.
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