Rain. Every. TIME.

There is a re-occurring instance that has actually become a rather characteristic part of my life since I moved to the apartment I am currently living in here in Taiwan. It happens every time. It happens SO OFTEN, that in my mind and the mind of my close friends, it has ceased to be a superstition altogether. It has become a reality. In fact, it happened again today. 

What IS it? you ask.

I, Victoria Scotia Crowley, can make it rain. (In Taipei, Taiwan. Let’s keep it in perspective!)

Almost WITHOUT FAIL, every time I hang my laundry up on the roof of my 12-story apartment building, it begins to rain shortly after.

The first time it happened, almost two years ago now (I’ve been living in this apartment building for 2 1/2), it was funny. It was like a joke. I told all my friends about in horror and they laughed at me. I laughed at me! There were enough success stories of me bringing my sun-dried laundry down from the roof, that the whole incident remained at the joke level.

But then it happened again. And again. And again. 

Soon, people were putting in their requests for me NOT to hang my clothes up on my roof so I didn’t spoil the beautiful day. It would literally be a dinner conversation sometimes:

A: The weather was so awesome today!
B: Then it rained!
C: I hung up my clothes on the roof this morning.
A & B: VICTORIA!!!

It’s crazy how consistently this happens to me. It happened again today; I was walking to church after hanging up my clothes (it was in the low 80s/high 20s) and I noticed the wind had picked up. The sky was turning ominous shades. And it was only 3 o’clock in the afternoon.

I’ve gotten smart over the years. I’ve raced up to the 12th floor and rescued my load of laundry from the down pour. Sometimes, I would make it, sometimes I wouldn’t. Most times, I would hear the rain, groan about my clothes, and leave them up there. It would just happen too many times I got lazy. Then I would go upstairs and collect the damaged goods. Sometimes, I bring down sopping wet clothes. Sometimes, if it was also windy, I’m picking up clothes from the ground that are wet AND dirty. SOMETIMES, I leave them up for for 3-4 days of rain, wait for the sun to come out, and THEN bring them down.

You, know it’s ironic. I think something or someone (probably aliens) was trying to warn me about this when I first moved to this apartment building. I was notorious for hanging up my clothes and leaving them up there for days. I would just forget about them! And then, when I finally went to retrieve them, somebody had taken them down for me, folded up neatly in a bag that was set in the corner, with a note in Chinese on it that said Please take your clothes down that same day. This was reasonable enough, as it was a public space. I think it was a sign of worse things to come. 

And it has come. EVERY. TIME.

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