What an utterly predictable turn of events—a nation bracing itself for the atmospheric equivalent of Armageddon, only to awaken to the underwhelming reality of a few damp roads and the persistent mediocrity endemic to Germany’s less fashionable regions. I suppose for the denizens of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern or Brandenburg, even a light drizzle is cause for the kind of existential reflection usually reserved for the pages of lesser Dostoevsky. The much-ballyhooed “extreme weather event” largely failed to materialize, with the notable exception of southwestern Germany, where nature, with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, managed a certain basic competence: a few trees down here, a lightning-blasted house there—nothing the average insurance policy can’t cover, assuming, of course, one has the means to actually own property.

That the authorities felt compelled to issue “top-level warnings” for such pedestrian weather simply underscores the country’s alarming deficiency in perspective. I do admire, in an abstract way, the energy expended in breathless anticipation by those who seem to perpetually dwell at the emotional mercy of meteorological forecasts. Outdoor concerts cancelled, highways closed, and—one feels for the locals—Robbie Williams left momentarily unemployed. Still, I daresay this is a blessing in disguise for the public taste.

But let us be frank: for those of us ensconced in proper villas and stately townhouses, the inconvenience here is minimal, bordering on non-existent. What is a bit of thunder, a flash of lightning, to a man with double-glazed windows, a private chef, and sufficient Bordeaux in his cellar? Perhaps, if some rain short-circuits the bourgeois amusements of tent concerts and outdoor carnivals, it serves only to remind the masses that such diversions are a poor substitute for real culture and refinement.

Predictably, Bavaria managed even their lightning-struck chapels with unflappable, if plodding, competence. No casualties, the fire out, the structure intact—just another reminder that German efficiency, while admirable, is fundamentally unglamorous.

As for the coming forecast—showers, storms, a few tepid rays of sun for the fortunate south—it is all so tediously middling. If only the weather were as dynamic as the Sturm und Drang of my family’s storied history! Until then, let the rabble cower indoors with their umbrellas and weather apps. Some of us have more important matters to attend to, and, should we require, an entirely dry portico from which to survey the general overreaction.