It's a nice day...

"You should go outside, it's such a nice day."

I can't count the times I have heard that phrase.

I don't get it.

I am 51, ergo, I have seen a lot of nice days.

Nice days are pretty much all the same, aren't they? Is there some reason why I have to rush outside and see another one?

Are nice days vanishing like the polar icecaps? I don't think so. I think there is pretty much a stockpile of nice days available. Isn't it basically nice from May through October?

Besides, how do they know I like nice days? Nice days to me, quite frankly, have a certain boring blandness to them. A Miss America kind of sameness that bores me to tears.

Now give me a gloomy wet November evening and I'm in heaven.

Dark, wet, streaming skies. The blissful contrast between the dank wetness of outside and the cozy haven of inside.

Now that's worth going outside for...