Today, I was unprepared when asked to do something.
My mother asked me to please go outside and check to make sure that the windows on our car were rolled up. Curiously, she apologized for asking me to do this. Wondering about the apology but not worried about it, I agreed.
Upon opening the front door to our house, I understood.
It was raining. Not any sort of mild-mannered, gentle-as-you-please sort of rain, either. The sky was dumping buckets of raindrops that were more like giant rain blob monsters.
After scanning the environment for a path that would minimize my exposure to the rain and deciding that such a thing did not exist, I took a deep breath, and dashed outside. I ran across the yard and around the car, running my hands along the edge of the windows to make sure they were well and truly rolled up all the way, then sprinted back to the front door and into the house.
All of this took less than a minute. Time does not matter much to giant rain blob monsters though, and this translated into me being drenched. My clothes were so soaked I had to change them before sitting down on the gloriously dry furniture, and my hair was dripping for several minutes.
Why didn’t I use an umbrella, you ask? I didn’t because I-You see, I didn’t-oh phooey. I’m human that’s why, and the adrenaline rush of, “I can out race giant rain blob monsters” convinced me I was a superhero. I completely forgot umbrellas were an option.
I hope you’re happy, weaseling that answer out of me like that.
Tomorrow: I will give you an update on this month’s composition project and which Brahms’ violin sonata I have decided to work on.
Until then, happy failing!