It snowed in Portland today. In March. What the fuck?
After the snow passed the city spent some time alternating between blindingly bright sun-shiney goodness and complete downpour.
The day Colin died was like this, strange weather that swung from one extreme to the next. I spent most of today completely pissed off before realizing that was why. I had forgotten how strongly the weather affects my mood. I had forgotten how it can bring back memories so vivid for me, sticky, visceral, bloody, screaming, loud, acrid memories. It makes my bones hurt, makes me feel dull and scratchy like wearing panties that are too small.