Me v.s. The Weather

It had already occurred to me not just once but several times that the rain usually pours the hardest when:

1. My laundry (especially my underwear) is about to become considerably dry and wearable.

2. I’m wearing my new shoes to work or for a short stroll to Greenhills.

3. I did not bring my huge Honda umbrella.

4. I brought my tiny Hello Kitty folding umbrella.

5. I woke up late.. Thus, I become even more late because the street’s even more jam packed during a rainy day. Thus, you are caught in traffic while freezing your ass to death because you’ve tried to battle the heavy down pour with a small hello kitty umbrella. Yet you failed. Come’on, seriously?!

And the list can go on, but really the bottom line here is this, me and the weather has this sort of love-hate relationship. When I ask for a good weather, meaning not so humid and not blazing hot that a simple  2- minute ascend to the 3rd floor of the MRT station triggers my hyperactive sweat glands to open the flood gates, it does the otherwise.

It’s a continuous mockery… a strong snarky proof of its omnipotence. In a way, the weather is like a woman, and not just any woman. But a woman with PMS. Think about. Did I scare you enough?