This kind of weather, to me, is the worst. It is so humid in my office, I have had to set up a dehumidifier. Drawing paper, even the expensive stuff (which isn’t what it used to be), wicks moisture from the air and turns into blotter paper. In place of the crisp smooth surface I am accustomed to skating across, there is a limp expanse of slush. It’s disheartening to lay down a clean line of India ink only to watch, helpless, as it expands outward in a craze of tiny black capillaries. Ah, well, into every life a little rain must fall. At least I’m not a farmer.