STEADY FALL OF CRAP FROM THE SKY

In what is undoubtedly staggering news to my Dutch readers, who have watched every single episode of Baywatch and Chips and memorized the material, the weather for the past several days here in California has been miserable.
It has been raining.
Even as I speak, strange wet stuff is falling from the sky.

"How can this be", you ask in your amusing Dutch accent, "he lives in Califonia where it is always sunny, I have seen the documentaries!"

You've seen Baywatch and Chips.


"It is perpetually warm and sunny there, and everyone wears tiny red bikinis OR stretchy beige riding pants!"


And you justifiably conclude that this blogger is lying. Can't possibly live in California. Doesn't know what he's talking about. Rain, forsooth!
And he probably doesn't bound in romantic slow-motion towards the Pacific Ocean either!

Well, that last assertion is one hundred percent correct.
I try not to get anywhere near the ocean.
There's sharks out there.
Plus tsunamis and Alaskan fishermen.
In this weather, all of that would seem like far too much of a bad thing.
I do not bound.


SEMI-NUDE CALIFORNIANS!

On a day like today, all I really want to do is curl up under the toasty covers with a drowsy semi-naked woman next to me, a tea-tray, and a good book.

But it's Thursday, so I go to work.
Soaked by the time I sit down. Squelch, squelch.
And I call up a customer on the East-Coast, who sneers that their weather is worse, they've got snow! Rain, feh, it is to laugh!
['Sound of a long wet raspberry']
Then she snaps that in any case, they've got a minor cash-flow problem, so they'll be paying in fifty dollar increments every two weeks for the next five years.
"Rain! Hmmph!! Damned hippie!!!"
Expect the first cheque at the end of May.
"Rain! Hoohah!!!"
If I'm lucky.
"Snow, you hear!"
She thinks the drifts will block the path to the nearest mailbox AT LEAST until April. Possibly even the end of May.
"Wussy Californian, rain, hah!"
Best call back in two months if I haven't heard from her. No, wait, don't bother. She's far too busy to listen to anymore bellyaching about the weather. It's boring.
If she has the money, she'll send it. But don't expect much.
"Rain, in Frisco. Rain. Rain!!! Harrumph!"

After snorting indignantly for several more minutes, she hung up on me.
I never even got to tell her about the tea-tray.
Or the book.
Or the toasty covers.

Pity.

She sounded nice.



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