Yesterday, it was raining gently as I left for work. I thought it would be nice to walk in the rain. Gentle. Almost romantic, even if I was walking alone. So I got my umbrella and set off. The sky was gray; the rain fell down gently, pitter-pat. It was lovely watching the droplets fall from the verandas, the guttering, the tree branches, the sky. Streams ran at the edge of the road, puddles lay across the footpath, ready to be stepped over. Drips dropped from my umbrella all around me as I walked, like crystals forming before my very eyes.
Halfway there the wind blew, the sky rolled with thunder and the rain turned to torrent and I got drenched.
I was wetter than a prossies snatch after a good nights work, by the time I got to my office. Fuck me! I probably smelt as bad, too. Standing in front of the electric hand dryer for, what seemed like, hours, read more than a few minutes, was no fun at all. Even my fucking jocks were wet. Standing with the hot air nozzel angled to blow air down the crack in my arse is no easy thing to do, let me assure you.
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