Spotty sprinkling

I've been interested in the weather since I was flipping through a magazine for kids and read an article about the different kinds of clouds.

That interest hasn't gone anywhere. It's just gotten more developed, speculative and superstitious.

For example, I check the weather report every day. In a place with as wild of weather as Tucson, I want to have some idea of what I face outdoors each day.

I try to guess whether or not those dark clouds mean rain or shade, whether or not that fuzzy horizon is rain or just low-lying clouds, and whether or not the wind is coming from the south or the east.

But the superstition part is the best. If I take an umbrella with me on a cloudy day, the clouds are gone in 15 minutes. If I leave my umbrella at home, I end up walking to my car in a downpour. If it's November and looks cold out, I wear a sweater, I end up sweating profusely. If it's November and looks warm out, I wear a t-shirt and find my teeth chattering everywhere I go. And when I try to circumvent said instances, the weather circumvents me.

Ridiculous, right?

So there were massive patches of clouds hovering around Tucson for the past week and a half. They promised rain, they even rained all over the mountains and the foothills. And then they disappeared, just when it looked like the storm was ready to hit Tucson.

They teased me with sprinkling--five minutes, it starts to like like all hell's going to break loose, and then the sun comes out and the clouds float away.

Whatever happened to the glorious monsoon season of my youth, when the clouds would descend every afternoon, pour heavy rains for at least half an hour, and then hover for a few hours before drifting off until the next day.

Even last summer those mountain storms were bound to head straight for my apartment complex, flooding the parking lot and leaving a trail of sticky humidity in their stead.

Instead, all I'm getting this summer is seductive sprinkling that leaves me sweaty in the sunny humidity.

And yet, I still look at the weather report, hoping that 20 percent chance of showers is really going to amount to something.

I should know better by now. In Tucson, it's a fat chance.