And Sometimes, They’re Right

I get up and walk each morning. Or, at least, I try to. So, the night before, I check the weather and gather some appropriate clothes to wear for when I get up.

Last night it said it would be about 13 degrees, and there was a possibility of showers. I got some rain pants and a t-shirt together, and went to bed.

When I got up, it was foggy, but the pavement was starting to dry. The rain happened overnight, it seemed. So instead of the rain pants, I grabbed my regular dry-fit yoga pants and got dressed.

I got my shoes on, grabbed my iPod, and was ready to head out the door when I realized my jacket was in the car. Usually it’s too hot for the jacket, but it has pockets for my inhaler and kleenex and such, so I wear it. So I stepped out on the porch to go to the car and get my jacket.

It was warm and humid.

So I opted not to wear the jacket and just set out walking instead.

It was really, really warm. I had worn a hat because my hair was ready for a shower, and I was melting. It was so humid, I was thinking how nice it would have been to have gotten the rain. Even just a little bit.

Just over halfway through my walk, a breeze began blowing. I was walking into it and it was so refreshing and cool. Perfect for someone getting all hot and sweaty.

I walked another 1/2 kilometre and I started to feel some raindrops.

Then, the heavens opened and it began to pour.

I thought about stopping under a tree to wait it out, but I was only about 15 or 20 minutes from home, and who knows how long I would have to wait? So I pressed on.

My clothes began to cling to me.

Water was pooling in my shoes.

Rain was streaming off the bill of my hat.

By this point, it was too late to seek shelter — I was in a new-ish neighbourhood with no big trees. I was completely, utterly soaked through to the skin.

And then I realized — I’m wearing a white t-shirt.

Now, we have gotten a lot of these white t-shirts, free as part of the charity walks we have done in the past. They’re cheap, lightweight and perfect for walking and working around the house.

They’re also very transparent when wet.

So, with 10 minutes to go, I was holding my shirt out away from my skin, trying to avoid any embarassing revelations (because white sports bras, as I now know, are also transparent when wet).

I sloshed along, wringing streams of water out of the front of my t-shirt as I went. Almost home.

As I crossed onto my street, the rain let up a bit. And by the time I got to the door, it was just a bit of drizzle.

You know, the weather forecasters have often been blamed for predicting a lovely weekend and the disappointment that ensues when it rains. But no one ever says, “Well, we were warned.”