“No drought this year!” happy weather experts proclaim.

Thank you for informing us, as people bail out living rooms. Facebook whines and surly crowd mumbles at Walmart — my scientific tools for measuring demographic mood — have reached record levels.

So I share suggestions for coping with April showers until they produce May flowers and golfing hours.

• Celebrate that nonstop rain = a power wash for house. And cars. And the lawn mower I forgot to put in the garage.
• Instead of a rain dance, do a sun dance. Show your moves to bored kids and grandkids. They’ll either join in or run screaming, leaving you to dance — or nap — in peace.
• Monitor the backyard battle. Marching dandelions take over my lawn. However, violets are mobilizing, too. Who will win? My neighbors are taking bets.
• Clean the junk drawer—a penance that satisfies the pathological urge to accomplish “spring cleaning” without actually doing it.
• Stick your nose outside to sniff the wet glory of earth and hyacinths.
• Count cars racing through the rain — my nostalgic salute to inclement childhood days when I truly had nothing to do.
• Reassure pansies. Mine won’t spend their entire lives in our garage. Soon I’ll send them, plus houseplants, outside and watch them party.
• Try on summer clothes. If mine fit, I pat myself on the back. If not, I shop for a new wardrobe!
• Listen to your parents’ music. Doing so recalls the rare privilege of sitting in the station wagon’s front seat while envious siblings elbowed each other in back. The radio poured out orchestra music led by David Rose, Henry Mancini and Percy Faith while raindrops raced down the windshield. Wipers, resembling long, thin Fred-Astaires clad in tails, bowed in sync.
• Snuggly rainy days are the perfect backdrop for devouring an I-can’t-put-this-down book.
• Throw a baseball inside the house. Someone will yell at you, and you’ll feel like you’re nine again.
• Be daring. Watch an old movie, when good-night kisses were considered somewhat scandalous.
• Find an intact umbrella and walk. Pass a house with Christmas decorations and feel smug because you put yours away last week.
• Sing outside. Belt out “Singin’ in the Rain,” “I Love a Rainy Night,” or “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” — and watch traffic clear out.

Some hot, dry summers, I feel like a walking raisin. But this spring, I check my arms for sprouting mushrooms — one more thing to do on a rainy April day.

What’s your favorite rainy day activity?