Raining all over

This morning I just stayed in bed and watched the minutes change on my phone-- as if looking at the time long enough, I could freeze it with my icy stare (which is silly because I made up my mind long ago that if I did have a super power, it would be lightning speed transportation).

The thought of getting out of bed was grossly horrifying to me this morning. I was very happy to be smothered underneath my electric blanket in a protective coating of sweat with my hair plastered all over my face and neck all day long.

Unfortunately, my home is governed by the Universal Law of Cat-- that cats will pounce wherever they are not wanted. So my introduction to the morning was a black fuzzy paw batting my eyelids as the source of the paw purred like a rototiller in my face.

The rain had been coming down in torrents all night and into the morning. Water was everywhere outside. It swept by in deep ribbonlike streams over the roads and boldly washed over all surfaces. I was clearly thrilled to walk to work today. But who am I kidding? Sure, I like to save the earth on a daily basis and reduce America's dependance on gas which just might, in turn, solve all of our foreign policy problems...but NOT if it means getting wet!

I pack all my stuff (ten minutes late as usual) and head for the door to see that my cute, thoughtful Husband caringly left an umbrella on the doornob for me so that I wouldn't have to spend an extra 15 minutes unleashing the contents of hell in our closet all over our bedroom floor in an attempt to find it.

I smile at Husband's kind gesture as I remove the umbrella from the doornob, throw it aside and, with a twinge of guilt, grab the keys to my hip aerostar van. I walk down the steps to the sidewalk and stare in disbelief. I suddenly don't notice that my new shoes are in two inches of standing water, that ten minutes of painstaking haircare is unraveling defiantly in the wind, or that my mouth is open wide enough to fit an entire Philly Cheesesteak inside, because...the van...is gone!

I run back inside and grab the umbrella, no longer thinking Huband's little gesture was cute, or kind, or caring. That stinker drove MY car and all he could do was leave me a dinky umbrella?