It's been raining for about three straight weeks here in New York. Here is Mickey Spillane's description from a similar weather pattern. This is from his novel "One Lonely Night." The opening of chapter 3.

"The rain. The damned never-ending rain. It turned Manhattan into a city of reflections, a city you saw twice no matter where you looked. It was a slow easy rain that took awhile to collect on your hat brim before it cascaded down in front of your face. The streets had an oily shine that brought the rain-walkers out, people who went native whenever the sky cried and tore off their hats to let the tears drip through their hair."