soaked.

So, this morning, all of the sidewalks in my neighborhood were coated in ice. The upside: it took so much strength to walk without busting my ass that my core got a great workout.

This afternoon? The temperature rose and the rain came. The ice melted! However, I then had to walk home in this monsoon. About two blocks in I already looked as if I had jumped into a swimming pool fully clothed. By the time I encountered a rain gutter that essentially poured a bucketful of water straight over my head, I had just accepted my fate and howled with laughter. A man was walking the opposite way with an umbrella. Make no mistake. He was just as bad off as I was, thanks to the wind which had left broken umbrellas dotting the streets like an ogre’s snotty, crumpled tissues. “You like that, huh!” he said and laughed along with me.

“I can’t even be mad at that,” I replied, shrugging my soggy shoulders.

All I could think of was the song “Let’s Have a Kiki” by The Scissor Sisters, particularly the line, “Looking like a drowned harassed rat” because I’m pretty sure that I, in my useless bubble coat, hat and sopping wet jeans, looked exactly as the song described.

Oddly enough, a couple of blocks from home, the air changed slightly, and it smelled exactly as it used to in the backyard of the home I grew up in. How I would run outside and shriek and giggle and get soaked without a care.

I’m safely indoors, but I can still smell the rain. Earthy, almost salty. Not bad at all.

Oh, and of course, I’m listening to this.

[sic]

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