If ever I had doubted the existence of karma, this past ten days proved otherwise.

After weeks of littering my Instagram feed with clear sunny skies and waltzing around in short shorts, karma arrived in the form of ten days of solid rain. 

Yes, you heard me. Contradictory to what the Husband told me *menacing look in his general direction*; it does rain in California. 

And not just any rain, but the heavy sort that falls continuously in sheets soaking you to the skin. 

But you’re from England I hear you cry, you should be used to this! Which is partially true, but just because I’m used to it doesn’t mean I like it. Plus in England rain tends to fall in the less saturating form of drizzle or, if heavy, comes down in polite intermittent showers providing you with proficient dry spells in which to run outside without ruining your hair. 

Californian rain is much more American. It’s bold and unapologetic in an ‘I’m-here-and -you-will-get-wet’ sort of way. And don’t get me started on driving in the rain over here. 

The locals though are insanely happy, after three years of droughts and water restrictions (limited showers, no hosing that lawn etc) the reservoirs I’m told have been nicely topped up.

And I am also a little happier because as I sit at my desk I can finally see blue skies again. I also received a weather appropriate note from the homeland which has cheered me up immensely. 




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