I don't mind rain and I really like electrical storms, but wind I can take or leave.
They did say something on the car radio this afternoon about gale warnings for the southern coast, but they didn't mention my quiet little old suburb. Yet here I am, late-ish at night, listening to the gate rattle and the roof creak, and the ceiling and the chimneys making ominous and unexplained noises, and the wind yowling through the trees, and big gusts hitting the house with an intermittent whump like an explosion.
I'm frightened out of my gourd, frankly. And I don't even quite know what it is I'm scared of. But it's quite comforting to watch the two wind-spooked tortoiseshells thundering up and down the passage with their ears back.