Don’t let the rain fall down on me
Don’t let the rain fall down on me. Don’t let the rain kiss me. Don’t let it beat upon my head with silver drops. Don’t let it sing me a lullaby. I suppose I should not be angry; the rain does not know how to fall the other way. I should let the rain rain. There is no need to go outside. I will sit in the apartment, all day, on this cold, cold wet day. I will simmer a stew and eat it with a good red wine.
But I can’t help it. It’s nonsense. Only nonsense. I am not afraid of the rain, no, I am not afraid of the rain. I cannot sit inside. After all, those who hate the rain hate life.
Remember the Beatles tune? I’ll hum a few bars:
If the rain comes they run and hide their heads.
They might as well be dead.
If the rain comes, if the rain comes.
The rain in Antibes messes with your mind. One day it will drizzle, sniffle perhaps, and the next it will terrorize you with wind and beating of the drums and then on the seventh day it will rest and the sun will bless you.
When it rains on the Côte d’Azur, how can you make plans to sunbath on the beach or take a long walk, or how can it help you choose between a rosé or a vin blanc during lunch, or will it decide the choice between a long day or a long night?
I like to think I am different from others who walk in the rain. They get wet. Occasionally, I will walk on tiptoes and step between the raindrops.
From a 45 RPM, let the Critters sing to you “Don’t Let the Rain Fall Down on Me.” It debuted July 8, 1967 and peaked at #39 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart. This is the original mono mix when it was a hit on AM Top 40 radio stations.
un Voyageur 
Too bad you’re not in Portland. It’s been really nice here most of the time, lots of sun and sunbreaks. I haven’t used my umbrella in ages. Ha!
I feel sorry for you. Oregon and no rain is . . . a . . . oxymoron, non ! To remedy your momentary existential angst, which I detect from the sous-entendu of your message, I recommend watching or listening to:
Eight hours of rain. No umbrella is needed.