Nobody cares unless you're a rain wizard.
Can't remember if it was Hitchhikers or not, but I always loved the metastory in a Douglas Damas novel about a miserable truck driver who didn't realize he was a rain god. Drove around his whole life in every kind of shitty rain, ceaslessly drizzling, pounding, lashing, misting, torrential, treacherous, tropical, flash floody, saoking, pelting, OH MY GOD I JUST REALIZED I'M FROM SCOTLAND AND SEATTLE AND I HAVE MROE RAIN WORDS THAN ESKIMOS ALLEGEDLY HAVE SNOW WORDS. Anyway, that guy could have saved the planet, if only the rains knew how to explain it to him, or a statistician had noticed his anomalous life.
Btw, Seattle actually gets less annual rainfall than NYC, it just comes down more persistently and slowly over a longer, darker, more misery inducing period of months. Seattle also rarely gets any serious wind, snow, fog or lightning. Considering how much energy and water is coming together over the city from the Pacific, lake effect, Olympic and Cascade mountain ranges, it's absolutely bizarre that we're locked in a weirdly stable chaos vortex, like Mr. Burns diseases.
Then in summer everyone runs around in gleeful insanity like when a dog finally scoots a stubborn poop out of its rocket nozzle and proceeds to lose its mind with sheer kinetic joy.
Growing up in Scotland on the East Coast (actually before the climate shifted radically enough to seriously affect snow) I got a pretty excellent collection of everything except nice warm days. We'd get blazing sunshine a couple of days in July or August, with thin ozone guaranteeing that our paper-hued skin would blister like that chick from Prince of Darkness, despite never cracking 65 degrees, and insane Revenant/King Wenceslas snowdrifts, Texas thunderstorms, Jack the Ripper fog events, and four pound razor sharp slate rooftiles slicing through gale force winds like Final Destination props. When we were kids we would go out in Gales with makeshift "parachutes" aka childsmashers.
Seattle though? Long, perfect summers, long days, lakes that warm consistently up to refreshing 70s (night swimming is the trick here, so the relative temp feels warm rather than bracing) and pine and creosote scents as the alpine surroundings dry out on shaded beautiful hikes. Then in October - the sun dies like a druid prophecy and the entire outside world becomes wet and freezing till May.
