It was cold outside. It was raining. And it was very grey. I pulled myself out from under the pierzyna and padded down the hall. 54 degrees. Still no heat.
Hot shower, hot breakfast, hugged my puppy, headed to class.
Fell down the stairs. Moccasins and wet wood reduced the coefficient of friction to something close to zero. Skinned knees and grass stained tush are not a novel occurrence in my life, so I picked myself up and headed to the Jeep.
The Jeep had low air in its tires. The car was undriveable secondary to its run-in with the tree and subsequent hot-dog bun appearance. DH took the only umbrella because he secretly thinks it's funny when my hair gets really fuzzy in the rain. Plus blue is his favorite color, so he likes it when my fingers lose all circulation from the cold.
I walked in the rain.
There was a crazy woman walking on the sidewalk in front of me. I probably shouldn't call her crazy. She was wearing a walking boot, a purple trash bag wrapped around her waist, and a red nylon bag over her head. She was pushing an empty stroller. So instead of crazy we'll go with Susan. DH said she was probably homeless. I don't think she was homeless. It was a really nice trash bag.
I didn't want to pass her in case she got ideas about running me down with the stroller, so I trailed behind. It was a poor decision on my part.
You see, Mr. Bus Driver had the same idea I did. He was trailing behind Susan for about three blocks ~ just enough time for the rain to soak through my shoes and give my hair a nice halo effect. Then Mr. Bus Driver decided to blow past Susan and I on his merry way to the bus stop a block ahead of us.
There was a large muddy puddle along that route.
Susan laughed so hard at drenched, muddy, shivering me that she had to sit down in her stroller.
I laughed too. All I could think was "if only I had wrapped up in a trash bag."
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