In my city it is raining. And in my city, usually, when it decides on a particular sort of weather, like 91 degrees, or "sunny", or raining, it just doggedly sticks with it for as long as it possibly can. I think that since we moved here it stuck with "not raining" as much as it could, but there is an end to everything. And so now my city is going a bit Biblical and is sticking to "raining" as well as it possibly can.
We'll see how long it can make it.
Admittedly we are nowhere near "Ark" yet.
As I intimated earlier, I am sick, albeit not terribly at this point, more just with an unpleasant cold and the even more unpleasant cough. So our plans to go look at a far off city's apartment were scuttled. Although now we are having a peep at said apartment in a virtual viewing and not leaving our apartment at all for the day. Which is shockingly easier.
So I look out the pretty windows and wonder what I would do if I weren't sick. And this is what I have decided:
I would plunge out into the drenched and fully romantic city. There we would find some chill cavern of a wine cafe, looking out on the splattering streets splashed through by the thrum of people never thwarted in this city by mere weather. I would order a bottle of Shiraz wine on impulse. My wife and I would drink it right through "pleasant glow", into "optimism", and then inadvisedly on into "a slight touch of invulnerability".
We would walk down to the sea at twilight, recklessly having macchiatos on the way. We'd amble on the wet stones of the beach like we were dreaming, until we realised we were a bit wet and cold and would rather not walk home but had no ability to teleport.
We'd splash through the puddled sidewalks and lights bouncing everywhere, marveling at how busy everywhere was, which is something we do in this city no matter what, every single time we go outside. We'd get home and take the elevator, ancient, tiny, and seemingly untrustworthy as it is, to our floor. Wet in our front hall, I would empty a mysterious number of rocks, that I remembered as more dazzling, from my pockets.
Then, with the slow burn of a sore throat, followed by running nose and a miserable cough, then I'd get sick,ending up exactly where I am now.
It was always my destiny anyway.
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