*sputter*

It's been a fabulous morning.

My wife, on many days, gets up about an hour before I do. This morning, as per usual, she got up, and took her shower. As she was going about getting herself together for the day, I could feel a cold front rolling through the area. The temperature was dropping and rain was beginning to fall outside, cooling the air further. In the distance, thunder rolled. Lightning flashes crept in around the edges of the curtains.

I love storms. Especially at night. Or even in the early morning. That, combined with my wife getting ready for work, meant that I dozed rather than slept. I heard her leave, and shortly thereafter my alarm went off. I remained in bed for a while, waiting to hear if my daughter was going to get up. I heard her go into the bathroom to take her shower, so I closed my eyes again.

This time, I dreamed. I dreamed that I was actually taking a nap. I was dreaming about sleeping. I think maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me to go to bed earlier at night. Fuck you, subconscious! Are you going to write this manuscript I've been plowing through recently? I thought not.

However, if I was dreaming, that meant that I was sleeping. I suddenly realized that, roused myself from my dreams, and then jumped out of bed. It was a quarter after seven, which is thirty minutes after I need to get up. Fortunately, my son was already up. My daughter had eaten her breakfast. I was able to get him fed and even pound down a quick breakfast of my own. Coffee was thrown on, I jumped in the shower with a thunderstorm raging outside, and got cleaned up, organized-ish, and got everyone ready for school.

Unfortunately, when it was time for the bus to show up, it was still raining. I, personally, do not own an umbrella, ever since my trusty Notre Dame umbrella Swissified itself, bent its shaft, and refused to open OR close. How I managed to do that to an umbrella, I'll never know. So, I stood outside with the kids--who were crowded under my daughter's umbrella--in the rain. I tried to shelter under a pine tree, which sort of worked. What I was able to avoid from the rain I gained in the huge drops of water dripping off the needles above my head.

With the children on the bus, I returned to the house, finished getting ready, scraped together a lunch, and made my coffee. Unfortunately, one of my coffee cups was missing a lid. I used it anyway, thinking I would just hold the cup and drive slowly. I've done it before. I'd do it again.

The rain continued and, as I was driving to work, it intensified. I was able to pick my way through downtown on my usual route. Then, as I was about to get on the freeway, the rain lessened a bit.

Huzzah! I thought.

I got on the entrance ramp and began picking up speed when...I hydroplaned.

Spinning, I found myself suddenly turning toward the traffic on the freeway. I was able to correct the skid easily enough, to realign myself with the flow of traffic and seamlessly merge in with the other cars participating in the morning rat race.

Unfortunately, the coffee cup I was still holding did not move so elegantly while I was trying to regain my momentum. The coffee splashed, violently, over the rim of the cup and landed across my lap. Normally, this would not be an issue as I wear jeans to work most every day. Today, however, I wore khakis. Now, I'm wearing tiger-striped khakis.

But the fun doesn't stop there. As I continued on toward work, the rain reintesified. Lightning flickered and flashed; thunder roared and rumbled. I pull into the parking lot as several other people are making mad dashes for the door. I gather my belongings, lock the door and also dash toward the door.

And then, the person ahead of me by ten feet, who looked back and saw me, closed the fucking door on my face. She was in such a hurry to scurry into the building that she closed the door on me. She did not have the fucking common courtesy to hold the door for someone who obviously works here, who was using the same entrance, and who didn't have a fucking umbrella.

I'm mostly dry now. I'm cold, because the building hasn't adjusted to the fact that it's no longer 90 (you know, two days ago). My pants are dried, somewhat, but coffee-stained. And my shirt has that sort of clinging damp feeling that you get when you've been standing in the rain too long and you let the shirt air dry.

I'm sure I'll be dead by the morning, having caught some vile form of ague. Remember me fondly. And fondle me if you remember.