The Rain Hates Me

…and other unfortunate weather-related events.

When I woke up this morning, I looked outside and saw we had about an inch, perhaps two, of nice, fluffy snow. This is something of a miracle in New Jersey – not just because our temperatures are normally too low for snow, but also because when the temperature actually cooperates, we get ice instead. It isn’t ordinary ice, either. It’s ALIVE! When you step on it, it has these little claws that come out and snatch you and pull you down. I know from first hand experience! (Although, you know, my therapist would disagree…)

In any case, I was pleased for about three minutes, until my parents wanted me to walk the dog. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, and my dog especially, but it’s that walking bit I don’t quite enjoy, if you know what I mean. I would much rather prefer, I don’t know, math-ing the dog or something. Interpret that as you will.

Sighing theatrically, I caught the dog (no small feat), put on his harness and leash (no smaller feat), and finally stepped outside (no smallest feat!) The snow was a bit slippery from hidden ice beneath (surprise, surprise), and I slid my way through the front yard and down the first street, where cars honked and beeped and cursed their way down the unsalted roads.

Everything was going more or less all right, apart from the dog doing as he usually does – whimpering in fright from the sight of twigs, running away from kittens, attacking ginormous dogs (he tries, anyway) – until maybe five minutes away from the house. It was at this time when the sky let out an ominous crack and insanely heavy rains crashed down.

Like, really heavy rains. I’m talking Hurricane Katrina 2.0 heavy rains. Giant spheres of enhanced water smashed on trees, which snapped like toothpicks and littered the roads, pummeled the grass and flowers flat, and massacred any unlucky people such as myself.

By this point, I was too far away to get my lazy self to go back home to fetch an umbrella (which would probably splinter, in any case), so I slogged through the rest of the route, my dog deciding to stop and sniff areas that were under the most rain with the least shelter.

After what felt like several hours, I arrived home, pretty much in pieces, with one happily wet dog, who had bounced from puddle to puddle like an over-eager child. Which, come to think of it, is more or less what he is. Except for little details like species and things like that.

Once I fell inside the house and closed the door, the sky cracked again, and the rain ceased.

Yeah.