I woke up this morning and heard the rain. “It’s pouring,” I thought, half asleep. The sound of the rain is louder than the sound of the alarm clock. I turned over in bed and put the pillow over my head, knowing that sooner or later I will have to get up, but hoping that it is only a dream. A little rain is okay, but three days in a row is more than I need or want.
I turn on the weather channel to get a forecast. Why is the television radar always in slow motion? They need to put it in fast forward so that this rain front will move through more quickly. Flash flood warnings are scrolling across the screen. Rivers and streams just don’t want to stay in their banks when the rain keeps pouring down like this.
You know it’s a bad morning when the weatherman doesn’t make it to work.
I manage to drag myself out of bed and get ready for work, rain or no rain. I hope for the best, prepare for the worst and wonder if I should pack a bathing suit and snorkel in my lunch bag. I dig out my raincoat and can’t find my umbrella, then remember I left it in the car. That figures. If I had a motorboat I could probably get to work faster and beat the traffic too.
Traffic will be terrible this morning. I don’t know why it is that people seem to panic when there is rain. Traffic crawls. I vaguely wonder how long a car will float before it sinks. My wiper blades could really use a re-tread. I reach for my cup of coffee and turn it over on the seat. What a mess, but I have to keep both hands on the wheel before that eight-wheeler in the passing lane throws water on the windshield and blows me off the road.
There is never any parking on a morning like this. I should have stayed home from work to fish in that lake that formed in my back yard last night. I drive round and round in the parking garage. It seems that everybody wants to park in the garage on a day like this, even the amateurs. Some idiot stops in front of me and starts backing up. Where am I supposed to go? There are cars behind me! I give ’em a beep and their car springs forward like a jackrabbit. I feel a bit guilty. Horns sure sound loud in the parking garage.
I park and get out of the car, collecting my possessions as I watch the garage elevator fill up with people and leave. That means a long wait until it returns. I hurry to push the button again. Other people gather, impatiently waiting. We are too far from the ground level to consider stairs. Finally, the elevator comes and we all crowd on, damp, miserable and thrilled to be at work.
Rain comes down in torrents as I start my walk to the office building. I pop my umbrella open and notice I’m out of style with my old news print umbrella. Thanks to the Titans, blue and white stripes seem to be the new umbrella fashion color of choice. You’d think there would be more newsprint umbrellas. With this sort of weather it is worth subscribing to the local paper to get an umbrella for free.
Where is the handsome man that always comes along in the rain in the movies and helps the lady across the street with his huge umbrella, before he invites her to have a cup of coffee? No Prince Charming for me, just a city bus to dodge before it sends a sheet of water cascading over the curb. Dumb bus driver! I dodge puddles trying to keep the water out of my shoes while struggling to keep at least the top of my head dry with my out-of-fashion umbrella.
Slick floors in the building, wet people with dripping coats and umbrellas slide into the elevators. If a wet T-shirt contest breaks out in the office, we’ll be ready. I sure hope this dismal weather doesn’t last forever. This isn’t rain – it’s a gully washer. I’m so wet it would take a pretzel machine to wring me out.
I can’t even remember life before rain. I somehow feel as if it will never quit. I only pray that the animals are not beginning to gather someplace two by two.
©2002 Sheila Moss
How’s the weather in your part of the country?