blame it on the rain
A walk in the rain is a romantic sounding prospect, yes. If you live on a little hill and are surrounded by grazing animals.
Here in the city, walking in the rain is about as much fun as gluing your head to a lamppost.
During this time of year, rain and pain become more than just rhyming words. They become perfect word substitutes.
Is it just me or does random garbage spread itself in inventive patterns on the streets during the rains?
Also, do dogs automatically poop more when there are showers?
Contrary to belief made popular by Hindi cinema, there is nothing sexy about wetness. Damp clothes make people look like food substances cooked by me (read shriveled colourful chunks of god knows what).
Even when it doesn’t rain, it rains. Like those annoying rooftops with fancy slopes that provide for constant drip-drip on head that wants you to rip-rip the damned roof off.
It rains inside our local trains and buses too…with the result that people now open umbrellas inside public transport to keep themselves from coming in contact with that deadly liquid we call water? You see, causing acute discomfort to self and others is preferred over getting wet. If you’re lucky you will witness ‘the clash of the umbrellas’, a sport more entertaining than whatever sport is in these days. (We’ll come up with a better title soon)
Everyone seems way grumpier when the clouds hit. I wonder.
On the bright side, (note careful use of wordplay) we don’t wake up to the glare of the sun anymore. We wake up to the hope of a rain washed day so we can stay home and watch hbo. Then the flimsy clouds crush our dreams and we leave for work
Truth is it hasn’t been raining enough…what a washout.