...to eat a whole smelly rotisserie chicken on the crowded rush hour bus with your greasy bare hands, and then discard the chicken bones under your seat. Lady, I get hungry too, but damn, have some self respect.
...speaking of bus manners, to cross the line between you and me on the seat, keep your left elbow all up in my business, sing loudly, and then open the window to the rainy, cold London air. All while smelling terribly. Not okay.
...to start full on hailing when I don't have an umbrella. Not cool, London.
...to have a broken arm in a cast that can't get wet in a city that is constantly wet. My poor, poor little girl that I nanny broke her arm falling off of her scooter on the way home from school (and I am so thankful it happened on the one day I don't pick her up) and is having a hard time keeping her arm dry.
...to pull up to me while I'm on my bike, in the pouring rain at a red light, and harass me about my booty and the saddle of my bike. You are disgusting. Get some teeth. And I am not a piece of meat for you to catcall to.
...to buy meat from Tesco's. My butcher was out of chicken mince so I tried to buy some from this gas station meets Walmart meets dollar store. I took one look at eerily shiny mystery meat and bolted back to my butcher to beg him to mince a chicken for me. After I told him I almost bought from Tesco's, he told me he rather me not digest plastic and minced a chicken for me despite his lack of time. Love these guys!
Okay, I think that's enough first-world-problem griping for now. Daniel and I are taking a break from this dark, rainy monsoon called London to go to Rome for a long Valentine's day weekend. I'm a lucky gal and trying to soak up this chapter in our life of traveling. Ciao!
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