Rain, rain.

I often wish that I had 'rain days' at my job... Days where, upon waking to dreary wet skies, my phone would ring, and my boss would say: "Stay inside today! It is too wet to work!".
I would shrug my shoulders, crawl back into bed, and switch on the TV for Maury-a-thon 2010.

Perhaps it's time to consider a blue collar career? I have no idea what a 'foreman' does, but it sounds like it would probably be something that I am good at. Those guys get rain days a'plenty.

I'm sick of showing up to work with soggy feet and frizzy hair, and having to smell the first damp vagrant of the morning (a scent that can only be described as a combo of musk, trash, and depression) as I wrap the blood pressure cuff around their clammy, cold arm.

This weather is the worst. My beautiful Mexican tan has faded to a hint of pale glow across my forehead and cheeks, and my most of my flowers in the garden have barely begun to bloom.
I've been using as much aerosol hairspray as I can, in hopes that it may help rip a larger hole in the area of ozone directly above my house. I'm thinking about burning a bunch of plastic and garbage in my backyard to speed the process along.
Hurry up, summer!

~sarah p.

p.s. The best thing to do on a rainy day by far? Download every Evelyn 'Champagne' King album ever!
Betcha there's some tracks you forgot about, or didn't even know existed. Score!