So it’s raining cats and dogs in
gay pareee. I actually fear leaving the apartment,
in fear of what it might do to my hair.
I did have an umbrella, but I foolishly left it in an umbrella stand in
a café. When I left it had stopped
raining so I didn’t think to pick it up.
Grrr. Not sure whether to invest
in a big-ass umbrella for all my rain needs, or brave it like a trooper. Rain, as you well know, often comes with a
generous dosage of high-speed wind. Last
time I checked, little umbrellas (and even relatively big ones for that
matter), were not designed to withstand heavy blasts of wind. Many a time has an umbrella friend of mine aggressively
flipped inside out. In public too. The audacity!
I’m contemplating bracing the weather in a shower-cap, but I’m a little
too vain for that. I mean…as much as I’m
rocking the shower-cap look, I think it’s one of those “behind closed doors”
wardrobe malfunctions.
The reason I’m desperate to leave
the apartment is because it’s my day off and I don’t really want to be cooped up
inside watching TV and getting cosy in my duvet, eating ice-cream from a tub
with lots of toffee sauce and multi-coloured sprinkles. Wait, let me rephrase. That’s what I’d love to be doing, but it’s what I shouldn’t be doing (damn you conscience!) This is a day for exploring Paris. For ruining my gorgeous leather boots in a
4-inch puddle. The day for frizzy hair, see-through
white tops and damp jeans that chafe between your thighs. You know all those wonderful things brought
on by the rain? I’m not fooled by those
romantic movies where the guy and gal find themselves in the middle of a
rainstorm and don’t try to run inside for shelter. Rather, they start locking lips in the middle
of the street with the rain pelting them on the backside, the girl’s mascara
(not) running down her face (geeez, she’s wearing the waterproof stuff), and
her gorgeous mane of hair which manages to stay KMid style. That rain was totally photoshopped; I’m not
fooled.
The “stuff” I’m currently
listening to aggressively flooding the streets of Paris is altogether a
different matter. The sort of rain which
slides between cracks in the windows and before you know it your windowsill had
become a haven of whirlpools.
The one question I have now is:
is there an app on my phone which I can install to locate someone in Paris to
purchase me an umbrella, and bring it to my door? Is that too much to ask?
Watch this space.
Montana
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