I am going to write something really controversial. It is in a league with my post “Proud to be a Stay at Home Mum”. Ooooh, remember that one when a few people got all fighty and shouty? *grins like this*
This one promises to be just as good. It is all about…
WHY I LIKE THE RAIN.
I am not talking about agricultural reasons, or why it is good for the resevoirs, or for droughts. I am talking about why I AM GLAD IT IS HERE for my own selfish reasons.
1) I don’t have to go to parks. Parks smell of dried mud and dog poo. One of the best things about the rain is it leaves puddles, so even when it has stopped raining I still can say “oh no, sorry kids, no park today because *fake sad face* it leaves puddles on the slide”.
MWAHAHAHAHAHA! (evil laugh)
2) I like being all cosy inside when it is hammering it down outside. I pretend (true story) that I am in a TENT and it is RAINING outside and I am all cosy and warm. I guarantee you this – if you wake up at 3am and you live near me and it is raining and blowing a hoolie, I WILL be awake and grinning.
3) The rain does not do what the sunshine does which is BURST through the lounge window, smug and annoying, highlighting all the happy dancing dust particles I missed when cleaning.
4) I don’t need to feel guilty about using my tumble dryer.
5) Rain doesn’t do what the sun does which is the moment I so much as open the curtains to a sunny day makes my skin erupt with a thousand zits.
6) No one cares that my lawn looks like the front garden of an abandoned crack house.
7) I don’t need to shave my legs. Result.
8) Rain sounds nice on the roof at night.
9) I get to hide my big fat grandma arms under long sleeves and ponchos. I can eat as many Mars Bars as I like.
10) My straighteners get to live a bit longer. There is no point straightening any hair when there is rain about. My GHD’s buzz and switch on and off on a whim at the moment - by not using them when it rains they will last for the summer (*fingers crossed*). My Mint card thanks the rain.
11) Last night, both kids asleep, I am making dinner. Suddenly Ed makes a sound as if he is in serious stomach pain.
“ARG! ARG! Oooooh, ARG!”
I run up the stairs, two at a time
“What’s wrong?!” I gasp, staring in to the eyes of my poor darling baby as I scoop him up.
“The ice cream man is here” he says, pointing at the window.
He makes me open his curtains to show him the van, full of goodies he knows he can’t have.
“There it is!” he says…
the van starts to move…
“Going home!” I say…
The van starts to come towards us.
The ice cream man saw our curtains opened and was blatantly and without shame pimping out his chilly creamy goods. Slowly trying to intice us…
It’s not the ice cream that bothers me so much. It is THE TIME OF DAY HE COMES AROUND PLAYING HIS PERKY TUNE NEAR MY HOME. 8pm?! Jesus! The kids are in bed for gods sake.
If he had half a brain cell he would come round at 9pm when tired mummies up and down the land had the munchies. THEN he would make a killing.
So there you go.
If I wanted hot weather I would live in Australia where it is hot all the time (my brother lives there, told me the other day it was “brrr chilly”. It was 23 degrees). I like England because it is hit and miss. It keeps me on my toes.
So, there you go. Poor rain. Everyone hates you. Well NOT ME.