I’m talking steady downpour, drizzling, I’m starting to believe that Scientology/2011 End of the World/Britney Remix levels of moisture. Today the Brooklyn Bridge was partially closed, and the BQE was flooded. The eternal umbrella salesmen keep mutating, faster than a half-life experiment.
No I do not want to buy your $25 1′x1′ umbrella.
Even I’ve equipped myself with a mini Totes pop-up. I mean it’s only been a non-stop water park for the last 40 hours. It’s kind of obvious that you’d need one before leaving the apartment for work in the morning.
It’s like a Cinderella story, girl leaves ball at midnight and her beautiful glass slipper turns into drab footwear option. With just a few variables substituted, it’s the same scenario. Lady leaves work, instantly feels hint of precipitation, rain boots are donned before I can blink my eye.
I’m still trying to figure out how NYC women can carry 4,240 different shoe options in their purses.
Outside, I’m drowning in a depressing haze of gross city water, splashes from taxis every 8 seconds and a dissapointingly boring array of Hunter Boots.
Rain, Rain, Go away.
Until it does, I’m just staying inside, dreaming of my own Cinderalla shoes.