“Walking on high heels, soaking up life”

Wet Wet Wet

Dear Dutch summer,

I have always believed in you. As a matter of fact, even stood up for you when other people talked about you behind your back.
Cherishing every single day of your existence that is dry (even when freezing cold), I try to take “small” bouts of rain as a simple error in your naturally sunny character (- you do tend to get a little dramatic with them though). Even your efforts to ensure I don’t get a tan (for years in a row now) are understood positively: a melanoma wouldn’t suit me, you are so right.
But now I’ve really got a bone to pick with you. I have a 100 little summer dresses, waiting in my closet to be worn. At the moment they are all suffering from paranoia, certain that I don’t like them anymore (and no, this has nothing to do with their upbringing). It has taken me hours of therapy to convince them it’s not THEIR fault, it’s you: the (non-existent) Dutch summer.
Not to mention that you almost ruined half of my heel collection with your sudden moods. It’s not rain season in the North of Europe! And yes: you should go see that doctor specialized in incontinence.

Dear summer, I know you can do better! Give it a little effort: make us, me, my dresses and my heels happy.
Bring on the endless warm summer nights, make it a midsummer dream, instead of a summer drama (again).

So please note: the only way I should be getting soaking wet during this time of the year is a) by jumping in a pool, and b) when shaving my legs. In the shower that is.

Think about it!

Yours sincerly

Today’s shoes are… well…. wet.