So Monday started with a bang.
To begin with it was raining just hard enough to force me to wear my London Fog duster, which is nice for rain but awkward to get out of and back into on a moving train, and will pretty much guarantee that the day will turn out to be scorching hot, forcing me to either carry over one arm (requiring a third arm be grown before 5 pm but we don't sweat the small stuff) or to wear it and risk death by heat stroke.
Then, the rain increased in volume just before I left my car in Wyandanch LIRR car park and stayed at drench factor 11 until just after I took shelter in the station, when it reduced to drizzle. This was just long enough to flood the sidewalks and completely soak my coat so the weight of the thing climbed north of a hundredweight and the lining became damp.
I was just congratulating myself in having picked the one pair of shoes I possess that don't leak when some jerk deliberately drove through the flooded water in the curbside gutter and soakeed me from knee to the soles of my feet. Of course, this was the one time when the usual collection of broken bottles, barbed wire and razor-sharp metal fragments had been washed away so I didn't have the pleasure of seeing the bleep-hole shred his steel-belted radials. bleeper.
I hate this commute.