Brain weather is unpredictable. High pressure in the cerebellum means it's often overcast with periods of heavy rain in the morning. Some sunlight will possibly break through towards late afternoon. Then again, a dense fog might drift in without warning. And lightning can even strike every now and then.
Alas, human faces are not equipped with built-in barometers to indicate what atmospheric conditions will be encountered when dealing with another person's mind. There are no weathervanes protruding from human skulls to let you know which way the wind is blowing in a particular individual's head. If only we had some sort of radar to track the storms brewing behind the eyes of those with whom we are forced to interact on a daily basis.
Of course, my own brain weather is fairly temperate. Mid-seventies, a few clouds here and there, but mostly bright and clear. Spring is sprung in my brain pretty much all year round. My colleague Frank, however. Well, it's tropical monsoon season in his head and he just can't cope. And Sarah at the desk just down the hall? Complete arctic freeze. I blame man-made global warming in our workflow operations. Too much hot air in the building, especially in the conference room.
But I keep to my own Kyoto protocols. My attitude has gone green ever since I gave up burning the fossil fuels of professional ambition. I'm just going to sit here, basking in the warm glow of the sunlight from my unaspiring brain until our office is finally submerged beneath the rapidly rising sea levels of redundancy.