I hate rain

Left work and went shopping for my sister’s birthday present. Along the way I purchased a few things for myself. As I was walking home, laden down with shopping bags, the skies open up and I was caught in a torrential downpour. I did not have an umbrella, but since I was only two blocks from my apartment, I decided to tough it out. By the time I get to my door, I was soaked to the bone and my paper shopping bags were ready to disintegrate. While huddling on the doorstep I madly searched my bag for my keys . . . and realized I left them in the office. However, I had no cash on me to take a taxi. I trudged back out into the rain to find an ATM, but a block later I’m able to jump on a bus.

Back at the office, security listened to my plight but eyed me warily. Considering that I looked like a sodden mess clutching four ripped shopping bags, I wasn’t surprised. However, I must have sounded official because they let me into my office to grab my keys. Having reached the last ounces of my reserve, I decided to find an ATM, get cash, and take a cab home. While crossing the street, a car drove at Mach 10 through a huge puddle, sending a tidal wave of dirty water over my head soaking me for a second time. I took a cab home, poured myself a beer, and brought it with me into the shower.

I’m not sure why karma decided to unload a can of whoop-ass on me. I guess this is pay back for my comments to SSS.