Why do People Always Complain About the Weather ?

I have probably said this before, but it probably bears repeating. The weather is an ever-changing state, a difference in temperature and precipitation and cloud cover. As such, it seems to be a solid last-ditch conversation piece.

I'm good with that. I talk about the weather as much as anyone. One of the reasons I love living in New England, in fact, is that we have four definitive seasons. Weather conditions are always changing, never the same.

My favorite season is fall (or autumn, for the more literary among you). If you've never been to New Hampshire in the fall, I probably can't do it justice. It's long sleeve weather, but you're comfortable. Perfect for going on long walks. Leaves changing to different brilliant colors that Crayola could never reproduce. The scent of apples on the breeze. No humidity. Skies of a blue so deep it could make you cry.

I hate summer, though. Hate it. I hate being hot and sweaty and sticky and miserable. If you're cold in the winter (or even fall or spring), you can put on another sweater or add a blanket or whatever. In summer, even if you walk around naked, you're still going to be hot, sweaty, sticky, and miserable (well, this is true for me, anyway ... not that I walk around naked, but you know what I mean).

But I'm honest about my hatred of summer. The fact is, I'm more than likely going to be a bitch from late June through late August, and I spend extensive time bemoaning the weather and wishing for fall, winter, spring ... anything that isn't horrifically oppressive. I'm probably not a lot of fun to be around when the mercury goes above eighty. On those winter mornings that are below zero, though, while everyone else is complaining about how cold it is, I'm just grateful that it's not summer. Eternally grateful.

What bugs me, though, is the number of people who spend all winter complaining about being cold and wanting summer to come ... but then, when it's summer, they go on and on about how hot, sticky, and uncomfortable they are and how they can't wait for winter. I tend to be rather short-tempered with these people--after all, I feel like I've earned the right to bitch and moan about summer since I don't complain the other nine months of the year.

To be fair, New Hampshire's summer of 2009 has been exceptionally cool (and of course most people have done a lot of complaining about that, but I digress). The last few days have reached the eighties, though, with fairly high humidity. The sort of weather, in other words, that does not bring out the best in me.

Perhaps that's why I've got such a bee in my bonnet about this right now. It just got me thinking, though, about why it seems to be characteristic of human nature to complain all the time ... and then, when your complaints are reversed, complaining about that.

Kind of maddening, if you think about it ...