glorious puddles

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My feet are wet. Very wet. My poor, poor wet feet. Even more annoying though is that my clean washing is wet. Very wet. I hung it on the washing line on Monday night before snuggling into bed, thinking it would have all day Tuesday to dry. Rain was forecast, but not all day. The Heavens opened at ten o'clock in the morning and God's tears rained down upon the earth for forty days and forty nights. Or, thats what it feels like, nearly twenty-four hours later. Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day. Remember the hot sunshine and waves of pure heat from last week? Nope, me neither. It is now Wednesday morning and the washing is still on the line. The rain continues to fall, albeit not as violently as yesterday. It is still horribly wet and the world is full of puddles. Dr Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain. My feet are still sopping wet. They will be squidgy all day now. *dramatic sigh*