April 7: Weather for Your Mood

I am tired and frustrated and tired of being frustrated and, so, as I storm out of the building, the quickening rain seems merely to be a reflection of my mood. At first, it is only light drops and I am only fatigued, only wanting to get home faster.

But, by the time I am on the train, the rain is real rain and I am angry. I am angry about stupidity. I am angry about having to explain away your confusion. Since when is your confusion my fault. I am angry about the mundanity of the day. And the rain falls fast and hard.

On the stairs down from the train platform, the water pools. The overhang is not solid; it is full of decorative holes, which do little to stop the streaming water. I slip down the stairs and trudge through the parking lot, my flip-flops becoming slick and soggy. Someone has left a flyer on my windshield, and it has disintegrated and wilted. By the time I get home, I won’t have the energy to pull the pieces from underneath the windshield washer blades. My arms will be too full from soggy groceries, as I hurry to get home, to get inside, to change into dry clothes, to wait out this storm. By tomorrow, the sun will come out and bake the remnants of the flyer so that they cook and solidify to the plexiglass, creating a scar of paper across my view. Tomorrow the sun will harden this wet fatigue, turning into another day.