It’s raining in New Orleans. Nothing unusual about that; we get half again as much rain annually as famously rainy Seattle. But it’s been dry here for a couple weeks, and this morning’s steady drizzle (which actually began last night) is forecast to continue for the next three days.
Strangely enough, rain rarely seems to interfere with my morning ride to work. I often go home in rain, but I only have to contend with morning rain a few times a year.
I used to grab an umbrella and walk to work on such days, but I still got soaked. Now I’m inclined to put on a poncho and a baseball cap and ride my bike instead. The visor of the cap keeps the rain out of my eyes and let’s me see where I’m going, so it’s essential. But the poncho doesn’t do much good. By the time I get to my office, every garment on my body is at least partially wet, including my socks and my underwear.
I keep a spare set of clothes here. Not my most fashionable get-up — red knit polo shirt, thick white wool socks, burgundy dress slacks — but at least they’re dry. My wet clothes are hanging up above the fan. I’ll probably be able to wear them home, and they’ll get soaked all over again.
Note to self: Step away from the window when changing clothes. The commuters stuck in gridlock on the I-10 have enough problems without seeing your lily-white buttocks.