{shortcode-ef9f118c87e6f54f289513f59abb125b0165e555} Four years in Boston have provided me with plenty of time to decide what rain gear I prefer, and I’ve been able to observe others, too. (That’s right, I’m watching you.) Judging what all of you choose to wear in the rain has added a bit of joy to those gloomy days, and — through a little bit of psychoanalysis — insight on what you’re like. So here’s my take on your rainwear, organized by how unhinged it makes you seem.

Level 0: Rain jacket AND an umbrella.

You are very hinged. You’re always overprepared. You’re always early. You’re Type A: meticulous and thorough in all you do. I would trust you with my life. More than that, I’d want to “accidentally” sit next to you in class and become pset buddies.

Level 1: Umbrella only

You’re pretty hinged. You care about keeping dry, but you won’t let the New England skies rain on your fashion parade. You’re willing to fight the nasty winds and fix your inside-out umbrella to have your cake (read: style) and eat it too (read: be relatively dry).

Level 2: Rain jacket only

You’re neutral. You don’t like to be tied down. I respect that. You’re willing to get a little wet so that your walk to class isn’t controlled by the wind destroying your umbrella, but you aren’t keen on sitting in a puddle for your entire class (and subsequently catching pneumonia). Smart — this campus has enough plagues going around.

Level 3: Your normal outfit

You’re unhinged. There are two possibilities here. Number one: You forgot to check the weather — meaning you can be a bit forgetful and scatterbrained. Your head’s in the clouds, as they say. But maybe not, because if that was true, you’d have looked around up there and seen that it was going to rain. Number two: you intentionally didn’t check the weather, or you saw it and didn’t care. In this case, you may be unhinged, but you’re confidently unhinged. You know exactly what you’re getting into, and you’re willing to brave the elements to run free.

Level 4: Flared jeans

You’re wildly unhinged. Do you not see that the bottom of your jeans are soaked with mud? Are you not suspicious of the mini-ponds of water in the Yard (or the mini-lake that forms in front of Northwest)? Please tell me it was an accident. And please tell me you’re not going to wear these jeans back tomorrow.

Level 5: White sneakers

I have no words — your unhingedness is off the charts. You need to be stopped. As a matter of fact, straight to jail.

I hope you learned something profound about yourself. Even if you found out that you’re unhinged, I hope you embrace the title with pride. On rainy days, you’re a silver lining for us people-watchers as we try not to get blown away by the Cambridge winds.