|I'm a bit fuzzy on the particulars... but I do believe it's tea time.|
Don't get me wrong, puddle jumping and singing in the rain are fantastic pastimes. They allow you to be five again and watch the way the puddles swish about around your boots. There really is something magical about water. The key here is that the getting wet part is deliberate. You don't go puddle jumping if you don't want to get wet. After a good puddle jumping, rain-drenching, singing-in-the-rain experience you go home and change into your warmest clothes and sip hot chocolate or tea with a big smile on your face. Or at least I do.
Walking in the rain, on the other hand, is not the same as a singing-in-the-rain type stroll. If you are walking, and it happens to be raining, chances are you need to get somewhere and getting wet is not ideal. Working for hours at a computer is not an experience augmented by soggy clothes. It would have been a trifling matter if the week's troubles had ended there. Such was not my luck.
By Tuesday I must have done something to anger all the gods. It didn't take them long to enlist the fates to come to their aid. And so it was on Tuesday morning that I awoke blissfully unaware of the things in store for me. I wandered into the kitchen and found I was out of milk. Small matter I thought, I will make toast. Small matter? More like warning. A taste of how my day was to progress.
All too soon it was time for me to get ready for work. I returned to the kitchen and got out food to bring along. Then with my hands a bit too full I tried to leave the kitchen. I say tried because of what follows. I had to put down a glass to open the door. So, I swung the door open and then shoved my foot in to hold it while I picked up the extra glass again. Then I attempted my usual maneuver. I pushed the door open wide with my foot while I scooted through the doorway hands full. Usually this ends with me safely on the other side of the door and on my way to do whatever it was I was too busy doing to use my hands to open the door with in the first place. Today was not my day. The door slammed shut ever so much faster than usual. I believe it was helped by the fates. Suddenly I was standing halfway between the kitchen and hallway in ever so much pain. The door bit me! It bit me with it's pointy-ish hard unforgiving handle. You don't think a door can bite a person? I refer you to my name. The door had slammed shut burying the handle into my hip with such force that I had to stand there awhile to recover. It was the sort of pain that forces you to turn nearly statuesque for a bit, first in shock, then in realization and lastly in pain as you grimace through that first fierce and biting wave before it subsides into that dull ache you knew was coming. That is to say, it REALLY hurt. But I still had things to do.
Work was work, nothing dramatic or damaging happened there. I was finally done with the trouble, or so I thought. While I waited for my bus after work I had a growing sense of dread. It turned out to be a bit justified as my bus never came. I had to catch another one home after waiting in the really cold, very un-spring like rain for an hour and a half. Though at this point I was just glad to be on a bus heading to town. I do not know what I did to anger the gods so, but it must have been pretty terrible.
The rest of the week was largely uneventful. Any lingering wrath was spent in sending down soaking rain that made sure I was thoroughly wet at work. And of course there is my large, unpleasant, inconveniently placed bruise. I don't think you will blame me if I declare that I am not leaving my bed for anything this weekend. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a book that needs reading.