On Friday morning, I looked out the window before getting dressed, as I always do, to check the weather. I picked up this habit in Spokane, where it can be t-shirt temperature one day and below zero (Fahrenheit) the next.

The sky outside the window looked gray and dreary, much as it had the previous 4 mornings. Experience told me that I would need a light coat in case it was windy or drizzly, but otherwise I would be fine. When Matt rolled over in bed, he remarked that the news station had reported a chance of rain. "No problem," I said, "I'll grab an umbrella just in case."

I put on a brown t-shirt, khakis, and me red coat. I also put on flip-flops, since the sneakers I bought before leaving L.A. have turned out to be a half-size too big, and my trusty clogs are somehow giving me blisters. My flip-flops are fine for me even in drizzle, since I'm used to wearing them in inclement Spokane weather.

During lunch at Easter Bush, I looked out the cafe window to check the weather. A breeze had picked up, seemingly clearing the sky. The sun was out and it was fairly warm. But about 40 minutes before class ended, I heard a faint noise coming from outside. A "shhhhhhhh" noise. A rainy noise. Walking toward the entrance, I saw with a sinking heart that rain was pouring down in torrential, ark-necessitating buckets. As I ran to the bus, my only thought was "I hope it isn't this bad in the city!"

It wasn't, but it wasn't good, either. Matt met me at my bus (awww) looking a lot like a wet dog. A handsome wet dog in a grey coat. We walked/ waded back to the flat, the wind causing my umbrella to invert twice. The wind seemed to be coming from underneath us, oddly enough, while the rain seemed to come straight at us. If anyone wants to have a go at the physics of this phenomenon, feel free.

Upon arriving home (having used the umbrella the entire way), Matt took this picture of me:



Notice the soaking wet coat, shirt, and hair, the completely drenched khakis (completely as in up to the thigh), and the sad, cold feet peeking out of the flip-flops.

Next time they call for rain, I'll just wear my Wellies.