Have you ever underestimated Mother Nature? You look outside, see that it's raining and there are a few bolts of lightning, but eh- you think to yourself- I'm sure it will let up.Then you proceed to walk to work. There is something so romantic about walking along the city streets on a rainy day.
It is poetic and cleansing.
A walk in the rain is good for the soul.
Without the rain, we might never appreciate the beauty of a cloudless day, or the diversion that a stroll in the garden may provide, for flowers aren't much without rain.
As a true believer of the above, I seldom carry an umbrella.
Armed with only my rain coat and my bright yellow Hunter boots, I continued on my journey. The clouds continued to unceasingly drench the world beneath. In fact, it began to worsen. Lightning bolts and rumbling thunder were seemingly following me to work.
Soaked to the bone, while becoming increasingly unsure about the romanticism of rain, I soldiered on. "At least I wore a raincoat with a hood," thought I, "even if it only comes to my waist." My cotton dress did not stand a chance. In its drenched stupor, it clung to me like a needy friend. Maybe rain isn't so romantic after all. Some of my hair managed to continually peak out from under the hood, and become drenched, as well. So much for a good hair day.
The rain managed to drip from my soaked dress, into my boots. The amazing thing about boots is that they are constructed in such a way to be waterproof. It means it prevents water from coming in directly, but it also means that it prevents water from coming out that tricks its way in.
Soaked and demeaned, I made it into my building. I, then, sloshed my way to my office. My feet felt as if they were in a relentless wave pool.
I proceeded to remove my waterlogged boots, and decided to dump its contents into my spider plant. I wrung out my dress into the trash can. I was in a desperate need for a cup of coffee.
I decided to peak at my appearance in the bathroom before trudging into the communal coffee room. My mascara! Not ruined in the slightest. Nevermind the fact that my hair looked like that of Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein, my mascara had remained untouched! Hallelujah! Huzzah! Yippie!!!! ...Because I would not have been able to handle that kind of setback.
Thank God for waterproof mascara.