It’s raining. No, raining is an understatement. It’s pouring. Bucketing. Cascading. If it was warmer I wouldn’t have minded jumping out for a wild rain dance. Like that corny scene in Australia (the movie).
This kind of torrential rain always makes me ache for Vietnam. Because in Saigon, this is how they do business, man! None of those drizzling, sprinkling, half-hearted shenanigans! Instead, it’s thunders, lightnings, the whole kit and caboodle. Like the whole Pacific ocean being turned upside down, right above our heads. Fervent. Encompassing. Overwhelming.
So I hope that everyone is safe & dry inside. No clothes are hanging on the lines. And all trees and plants, great or small, are having a great day out, drinking on the town, soaking up as much fluid as they please. (At least they’re not gonna dash around the corner afterwards and empty certain internal organ at a hotel wall. Ick!)