Dear Spain,

So…yesterday as I was running through what I thought was a break in the rain, actual hail ricocheted off my uncovered skull. I arrived to the cafe where I was meeting with my friend with wet hair and mascara blobs sitting on my lashes, because I use this kind of mascara that makes little tubes around your lashes and when it gets wet, you have to pull the globs off with your fingers  – anyway, it wasn’t pretty.  The point is that it is already March, about the time when we are supposed to participating frantically in all forms of outdoor sports in anticipation of the boiling heat that is to come shortly.

But I find the only sport I have done lately is running for cover because of the rain, hail, and gale force winds the last two weeks. No one has been able to dry laundry because putting it out on the balcony is essentially kissing all of it goodbye, waving as it all takes flight on some giant gust of air, to be found later in the next barrio over by one of the multiple shopping cart wielding gitanas rolling through. And it has been cold. Cold enough that  instead of going to her little bed at night, the cat instead tries to dig her way under my covers at 4am.

You know, Spain, you and I had this talk a couple of years ago around this same time. You did well for a two years–I was proud of you!– but you’ve kind of backslid on your agreement to quit dicking around with the freezing weather this late in the year. It’s bad enough that there is basically some fever plague going around, knocking everyone out for two weeks of misery, but do you have to add insult to injury with the wind and rain storms? We are all stuck at home, watching our plants die on our balconies one by one and waking up in the middle of the night to a hairy paw in the face. It’s depressing.

You aren’t doing yourself any favors in the financial department either with this weather. The biggest mobile phone conference in the world was here this week and how did you welcome the thousands of attendees and potential return visitors? Um yeah, you blew off their hats and sucked up their VAT receipts into the sky so now they get no tax refunds on their purchases of hideous, button covered Desigual blazers and hippy clogs from Casas. Not the best move, Spain, considering the state of the economy here…

So. No more pelting me in the face with hail, blowing my belongings off of my balcony, or encouraging our pets to sneak under the covers with us – they don’t need any more encouragement.

Love,

Me