THE RAIN IS IN A CONSPIRACY AGAINST ME!


And why won't I think that?

Whenever it decides to make its presence felt, it will be on one of the very few days I decide to go out. It starts the moment I hit the streets, when it would be too bothersome to go back for an umbrella, not that I'd bring one if I happen to unwittingly step into a hail, and stops the minute I'm back in the house...

... soaked to the bones.

It must have a sensor tacked away here somewhere. Or maybe a chip planted in my brain. Or a spy?

I swear, it never fails.