Hydrology Cycles.

Well, I feel its that time again. I know I´ll never make it in the Blogosphere with this complete lack of regular posting, never mind the lack of photos. Its scandalous. I can´t even get the address straight for people or its just not online half the time. Sounds like digital technology and me getting along nicely as usual.

One nice thing about being at this tropical latitude is the rain. When it rains it really bloody well pours to clean the world right down to its $%&ing rear molars. Just streaming down for hours in the evening or from 4am like this morning. If it is in the evening I´ve been known to get out the shampoo and go for it Irish Spring style up on my rooftop, and I assure your miserable office-bound self that nothing could be better. In fact, it makes me wish I had a bucket up there to save some of those ten inches of water when half the time the electric pump under the lawn hasn´t put anything into the tank on the roof in hours and I wake up to stinking dry taps.

A touch of good old water conserving rationality would really do the trick around here. Mexico is a ´developing country´, and you know what that means: miles of strip development on the edge of town full of car dealerships, outsized supermarkets, massive parking lots rammed full of cars every Saturday morning. You know, all the $%ing good things of life, that everyone in the world must have in order to be happy. Obviously you´ve got to wash your car, keep that pride and joy of a debt-and-pollution-inducing status machine looking fine. The secret is to get the kids out there on Saturday a.m., doing some work for the family, hosing dozens of litres of soapy water down the street the day after a good rain; it does my heart good to see the dream of a consumer society alive and well and growing like a cancer amongst 100 million Mexicans who work their tits off every day to make it happen.

I got a proper passive-agressive talking-to by my principal for mentioning that there was no way I´d be accepting a contract extension that meant signing myself up to working six days a week for a whole year. She rightly pointed out in subtle terms what a spoilt-rotten rich-world slacking piece of swine I am. Felt properly chastised and then rode off on her crappy two-wheeler that she´s too afraid to ride on these carstrewn streets of Latin insanity. The utter disgust and contempt for the bicycle in these parts was perfectly conveyed by my 7 o´clock class one day (half of whom should be tied up in sacks and thrown out of helicopters, but only once or twice because they´re good laddies after all, just slightly unmotivated), with this parcipial phrase:

Having too little money to buy a car, Lisa instead purchased a bicycle to ride to work.

On two occasions I was made to hear audible snorts of utter disgust from those forced to read out/listen to such a pathetic state of affairs. Why doesn´t Lisa just shoot herself instead of bearing this pathetic humiliation publicly? Hmm, Lisa, let`s just give you a bit of help with that mess you´re in, shall we now? Ah well, you can´t blame these ambitious youngsters. They´re steeped in the wonderful lore of the automobile at every possible moment, and what could possibly change their minds? Not me of course.

As a wise man once said, "Everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds". Oh, I´m so terrible. Whatever am I going to do with me?