This morning I awoke to a nice thunderstorm brewing. In the past, I have been known to shrink from them because of my little fear of tornadoes. But as luck would have it, moving away from Nashville and from my trusty tornado siren a block from my old place has me yearning for the days gone by, when Nancy Van Camp was my best friend, sharing with me all the places that were about to be hit by a storm and when I should take the cat and myself into my bathroom.
I recently got a pair of Wellies, well, not the real ones but rubber boots none the less and today was the first day I could pull those bad boys out to wear. Oh the excitement! Again, it’s the little things that make me happy.
I meant to get my umbrella from the car yesterday but failed to do so, so I had to run for it to my car this morning. And I look like a very awkward, just learning how to run cow since I am still a bit tender in the calf area. All was well though and I managed to get downtown to the office with no troubles.
But lunchtime came and the sound of tomato soup at my desk didn’t sound like much of a lunch. The calling of Panera Bread was yelling loud and clear, so I grabbed my book, keys, money and phone. I thought about grabbing my umbrella but decided I wouldn’t need it.
This is where you all smack the palm of your hand to your forehead. Yep, no sooner had I finished my yummy French Onion soup had the sky opened up. The thunder roared and I kicked myself with my fake Wellies for not grabbing the umbrella.
I got my stuff together and headed out the door thinking if I sprinted (awkwardly mind you) that I could get to the cover for the free shuttle and wait it out. But wait! The bus is just pulling up to the stop, can I make it? I break out in what has to be a worse all out run than Pheobe’s run in Central Park with my book, money, keys and drink shaking badly. At least I had a pocket and could put my phone there and prayed that it would not make a break for it as I ran, almost yelling for mercy from the bus driver.
I made it, the bus driver took pity on the soaked person running amok and then smiled as I breathlessly thanked him for waiting on me. I was only five blocks away from the office but the downpour was one that waiting it out or trying to walk back would have made it look like I had just gotten out of the shower.
When I got to my block I indicated a stop, got off and proceeded to get even more soaked for the less than half block sprint into the lobby. The guard barely looked at me and those in the elevator just smirked as I stood there trying not to drip on anyone.
Once back in the safety of my cubicle I realized that I was soaked to the bone and my hair was wet to the point that my desk was getting wet. I tried to pull myself together as best as I could and carried on with my workday.
When I got home I took a look at myself in the mirror. That crazy curly hair that I have that looks more like multiply personality Barbie? It was in full effect, no wonder one of the producers was looking at me as if I was a deranged psychopath. Some parts were curly, some were straight and the rest couldn’t make up it’s mind.
And this my friends is why you should carry an umbrella, even if you are in doubt. Or a mirror, brush and hair dryer.
Stumbling Through Life 