It’s another stormy morning in northern California. A friend calls at 8:30. Weather is the only thing we’re ever at odds about. She loves the Central Valley’s hot, dry summers. I do not. I like the rainy season, the rainier the better.
“Reality check,” she says. “Do you still prefer this to a week of 100-degree weather?”
“Oh, yes,” I say. I tell her about our sunroom, which has been leaking for two years. “But other than that, I love it.”
“I just don’t get it,” she says, but she still loves me. That’s true friendship, right there.