And that was thunder. Odd. While half an hour ago the clouds had been white and puffy, they are now dark grey and formidable. Then the raindrops begin, slowly at first, then picking up speed into an all out rain shower. Since clearly-sensible-me had not thought to bring an umbrella on such a beautiful day, I head toward Starbucks to sit out the thunderstorm.
Oh wait. It was such a beautiful day that I left my bedroom windows open... including the large skylight that provides my top-floor room with ample natural light and air flow. And rain. Well, that's fan-fricken-tastic and I'm a 15 minute walk from my room. This is the part where I start to speed walk/awkwardly jog the 0.7 miles from the Square back to the quad. By the time I get back to my room, the rain has turned into a monsoon-style downpour and I'm completely soaked through (although the novel in my purse is dry, thank heavens). My room is even worse than I had expected. Not only is my bed soaked through, but my desk (and laptop) have been thoroughly washed and there is a rather substantial lake in the middle of the floor.
**Note: The laptop thing was kind of an emergency and it took about three hours to dry enough for the touch pad to work properly. I'm proud to announce that I didn't fall into hysterics even once during this time.
|This photo is post-lake-cleanup.|
|I cannot sit on a moist chair.|
|And I cannot sleep in a moist bed.|
In true form for New England weather, no more than twenty minutes after I get the skylight closed, the rain stops and the sun comes out to shine its mocking rays at me. Really? That's unnecessary salt in the wound. I was actually bitterly glad when the rain returned a few hours later.
|Things to note:|
1. Dripping walls and lamp
2. The beautiful friggin sky
So what have I learned?
1. I hate New England weather.
2. Harvard-issue desk chair pads take a really long time to dry. Like hours, even with a desk fan blowing on the wetness.
3. Never assume that a sunny morning guarantees a sunny day
4. Never ever ever leave the skylight open. Ever.