So, it rained yesterday.
And the day before that.
This isn't rain like in the movies; gentle and constant or even heavy but still somehow magically the sort of thing you can see through, which turns the lead actors' skin into a dewy glow or whatever kind of cliche thing they're going for in the movies.
This wasn't even a kind of rain I immediately recognized, aside from perhaps half-hour, maybe an hour tops, moments in thunderstorms where the driving rain becomes a road hazard.
In Illinois, we had a few rainstorms where the roads would flood, or one memorable storm where the crossing into town down the road from us flooded up to about knee-height so they had to close the road.
This is not the kind of rain I am talking about; that was slow and steady, days and days of rain, enough to accumulate over time. Something I could expect, could plan for.
The kind of rain I am talking about now is not that kind of rain.
I got a pretty good crash-course in how to drive in this rain on my way to work yesterday.
It started raining like that almost five hours before I left for work, and it didn't stop. It slowed down a couple of times to the kind of rain I would have called 'pouring rain' before I moved here.
The rain I would once have considered heavy rain I will now call "Eh, that's not so bad," because I can compare it to the rain I drove through yesterday on my way to work.
It was a harrowing and dangerous journey I was undertaking. A moving truck drove past me, flinging up enough backsplash in his wake to force me to drive completely blind from the sheer amount of water on my windshield, even with my wipers going their fastest, until he was able to pass me far enough ahead for it to die down.
It is a very interesting moment in your life when you realize the moving truck that decided to park himself just ahead and to the left of you chose to do so less than 200 feet from a very sharp turn which you now cannot see because thanks to his backsplash you have absolutely no vision at all beyond the inside of your car. It's a moment in which you go over every bad or good thing you have ever done and try to figure out which side of the scale is going to weigh more.
Well, in any case, I clearly made it.
Then I was presented with a new problem.
I had to leave my car and walk around the corner of the building to get into work.
I ended up getting to work about ten minutes early. This gave me some time to sit and contemplate the space between me and my job.
That doesn't look so far, right? I mean, I am looking directly into the area of the building I work in. Although the picture didn't capture it, I could see my boss making a latte right then and there. I was watching her work, both of us in our respective dry locations.
But I had to plan this carefully.
I had to make a run for it.
There is a special kind of ridiculousness reserved for people dressed all in classy cafe black holding their glasses so they won't get coated in rain running hellbent around the corner for a door, wearing the plaid pink and green spring jacket they sort of accidentally stole from their mother a year and a half ago- and sort of accidentally keep forgetting to give back- who run directly into a small tree branch.
This is the only time all day I gave thanks to that rain, because no one saw me run directly into a small tree branch.
I ran into that branch with my head.
Specifically, with the right side of my head.
I had five more minutes to collect myself, and that was a good thing, or I would have started my workday giggling like a crazy woman and being completely unwilling to explain my sudden bout of hysterical laughter to my coworkers at all.
Because I am not admitting in public that I ran into a tree branch with my head. The only tree branch. The one I should have seen from a long way away, but didn't, because I was too busy being worried about how I wasn't wearing my glasses and wouldn't be able to see anything.
I just admitted to doing that in public, didn't I?
Let's just call it our secret.