it’s raining here.
now, i understand that my disgust may not actually shine through to you, since i just wrote that instead of saying it. let me try again, with feeling.
it’s raaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnning here. eeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggg.
ah yes. much more whiny and realistic-like.
here’s the thing, new york. i really like the rain. out west where i’m from, the rain means nice things. it means a cozy day inside, drinking coffee and curling up with a book. it means green grass, and smelling fresh nature for days and days. it means lush botanical goodness.
but here in the great city of nyc, the rain does not mean any of these things. instead, the rain means crappy runs on slippery concrete (which doesn’t help my phobia of somehow managing to slip off of the brooklyn bridge, which is ridiculous). it means that my wet, nasty running clothes will be mildewing while they try to hang dry in my bathroom, which happens to be about 2 feet from everything else in my apartment (and this smells like death). it means that i have to walk the blocks to the laudromat (in the rain) with my big fatty bag of laundry when it is dirty (not so bad) but also when it is clean and dry (bad). it means that tomorrow, when i babysit catie for 10 hours in the same apartment as her mother, i cannot take her for 4 hour long trips to the park. i must stay in a small, confined space with a bored 2 year old (under mommy’s watchful eye) ALL DAY.
and lastly, do you know what it smells like when it rains in new york city? rain in ny does not mean renewal and goodness, because concrete and dingy subway stations reeking of urine do not need renewal in the form of rain. they need renewal in the form of 409. rain just makes the smelly garbage sitting on the street smelly and wet. mmm.
plus, i we had an intern day at the zoo all planned, now cancelled. poop.
granted, my day will be lovely after i run and do my laundry. then i can eat and watch movies and do art. but seriously. i can’t see to the lovely without windshield wipers on my glasses.