Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t. But I couldn’t think of any rhymes to work with “Issaquah,” which is where I am now.
Ah, home! The place where I can be in my underwear all I want and nobody’s going to give me grief about it. I suppose I could have attempted to go similarly semi-naturel in London, but — as I’ve already mentioned — I kept having to move hotel rooms. Forgetting and accidentally winding up on the Tube in my skivvies in transit could have been quite… awkward.
(In France, on the other hand, it’s totally no problem. In fact, it’s encouraged! Just don’t dare wear a Santa hat or it’s off to the guillotine with you!)
I’m contemplating the purchase of this London Underground shower curtain so that I can be as naked as I like in the presence of efficient public transportation that moves a city with which I’ve grown quite fond.
Though a warning to “mind the gap” may take on a whole new meaning in this context…