Rain, Rain, Seriously, Go the &%$# Away

Ah, Paris in springtime.  Strolls along the Seine, picnics in the park, cherry blossoms blooming, their petals floating on the breeze...

Unless there is rain.  Oh, has there been rain.

And unfortunately, I'm not a crackpot like Woody Allen who is convinced that Paris is more beautiful in the rain.  Every time that got brought up in Midnight in Paris, I threw up a little in my mouth and started sympathizing with Rachel McAdams'  character, who the audience is supposed to thoroughly despise.  The only people who can get away with claiming that "Paris is so lovely in the rain" are those from a desert climate.  Otherwise, they're probably just trying to get into someone's pants (I'm so sensitive! Walk in the rain with me back to my hotel so I can read you some of my poetry!).

I have vague memories of being shown some weird movie in elementary school about a dystopian future in which the human race had fled to a planet where it rained constantly, and the sun only shone for one hour every seven years.  And some poor little girl, who was one of the last refugees to flee from Earth, is ostracized by her jealous classmates because she remembers what it's like to go outside in the sunshine and they don't.  And so, when the one freaking hour of sunshine comes, they lock her in a closet.  But then they feel bad and bring her the flowers that bloomed as a result of the planet's one hour exposure to whatever it is in sunlight that makes plants grow.  My teacher, Mrs. Meyers, tried to convince us that the fact that these kids had brought this girl flowers was somehow a reconciliation.  I seethed (still seeth- I really need to let go of some of my anger issues), thinking no, they shouldn't have LOCKED HER IN THE CLOSET TO BEGIN WITH, AND THEY SHOULD BE PUNISHED.  JERKS.

Anyway, tangent.  But yes, I feel like I have somehow fallen down a wormhole and ended up in an alternate universe that's exactly like Paris except that the sun will not reappear for another seven years.  The weather.com forecast only goes as far as 10 days, and so far, it seems that there's no end in sight, so as far as I'm concerned it's possible.

The real kicker is, of course, that when summer comes and I am roughly the size of Pluto it will be dry as a bone and hot as Hades.  And then I will cry out in anguish, wondering why, why I ever dared to speak against the cool, rainy springtime.  I've already made AH promise not to throw this in my face when that time comes (mostly because I fear that, in my rage, I would simply roll over and squish him in vengeance, and I'd prefer to keep him unsquished).

We did have one brief hour of, well, not sunlight exactly, but not utter downpour last week, and so I hastened over the park for a bit of whatever Vitamin D I could scrounge up.  And what delightful surprise should greet me but these delightful fellows:

See?  Someone's out there enjoying this weather.  Now if it would just clear up long enough for me to venture back over there and resume my baybeh duck stalking, all will be well with the world...