It was raining… and I had coffee

No one really knows why rain seems to turn the entire world into a pause button. Everything else just waits—work, responsibilities, plans. Forget about logic; once that first drop hits, all reason goes out the window.

When it starts raining, suddenly we see ourselves as the star in some dramatic movie. We stare out the window, breathe a long, unnecessary sigh, and convince ourselves we’ve got a complicated past we never even knew about. And just like clockwork, coffee makes its entrance—fashionably late but always perfectly on time.

Coffee on a rainy day isn’t just a beverage. It’s more like a mental state. You take a sip, and somehow it feels like it understands you better than anyone else. If it could talk, it’d probably say, “Relax. Everything’s going to be okay after this cup.”

There you are, sitting by the window, rain drumming softly on the glass, while your thumb endlessly scrolls through your phone—no real reason, just because. You don’t want anything specific, yet you want everything. You’re hungry—well, not for food, but emotionally hungry—so you reach for an extra biscuit with your coffee. Because hey, that’s cheaper than therapy.

It’s funny how rain makes us behave ridiculously romantic. We listen to a perfectly normal song and suddenly feel like it was written just for us. We think about someone we haven’t thought of in years and wonder, “Do they like rain like I do?” Even though the relationship was a mess. Even though they probably don’t even like coffee.

Rain has a way of making us overly kind, overly sentimental. But coffee? Coffee is brutally honest. If you’re tired, it gently jolts you awake. If you’re sad, it just sits there with you—no questions, no explanations. If you overthink, it’s happy to help you overthink even more… and somehow, it makes that process enjoyable.

During rainy days, we hatch big plans: We’ll tidy up our lives. We’ll finally go to bed early. We’ll become the productive, balanced people we keep claiming to aspire to be. But as soon as the cup empties and the rain stops, we go back to being exactly who we are—just with a slightly better mood. And honestly, that’s enough of a victory.

The truth is, coffee and rain don’t really change the world. They just gently fool us into feeling like life’s a little kinder—like we’re okay, or at least better than we were before that first drop fell.

And in the end, if someone asks you what’s made you happy, just smile and say confidently, “It was raining… and I had coffee.” 😄