That soggy, wet, monster heavy of a cloud is still sitting here, it's fat 'aff' plunked down like a fat glob of mist right on my lake. I'm getting totally depressed and unhappy. If I could remember the address, I'd head over to the intergalactic worm-hole station and jump off to another more suitable, drier, more fun planet. I think I'll get under a blanket and speed-read through Pandora's Star by Peter Hamilton. It seems to me he listed all the worm-hole station locations in there somewhere. I could be gone in an instant and be off this drippy planet!
In the meantime, and while I'm searching for the closest station address, I'll eat my favourite meal, deep-fried Mars bars, a nutritious, top of the food chart, offering eaten only by Olympian gods and their youthful cohorts, university students. While power snacking, I'll open up Rosie's website and see how she's been doing on her other-worldly trek to the North Pole. I understand she's sponsored by Mars bars, which has to be the ultimate, most awesome sponsorship company imaginable. I'm not sure whether they air-lift her yummy supply in daily or if she has to carry them all with her, but just imagine being out in that wintery wonderland, all by yourself, knowing that every one of those Mars bars is just for you! You can eat every single one. You don't have to share! Gives you goose-bumps, doesn't it? Of course you'll have to pack out the wrappers yourself. There's always a downside to every expedition... I remember stashing all our garbage against the forward cockpit bulkhead going around Manitoulin Island. After a while, I wondered if I was paddling a kayak or a garbage truck!
Anyway, like I said, the ultimate experience! You hear that, Cloud! I don't care! Sit there forever! Rosie and I are eating Mars bars and you never will! Ha, ha, ha...
Silly rotten cloud.