Thirty Percent

Thirty is a number. A real number. With real value.

When someone says there is “a thirty percent chance” of something, think carefully. If there’s “a thirty percent chance” of winning the lottery, you’d be tempted to play, wouldn’t you? I know I would.

On the other hand, we tend to discount thirty percent sometimes. Like on the weather report, if there’s “a thirty percent chance” of rain or snow, most people go “Meh. Not going to happen.” And usually, they’re right.

Well, I am here to tell you, thirty? Is not to be taken lightly.

When someone tells you there’s going to be a thirty percent chance of rain? That’s almost a FIFTY percent chance of rain. It MIGHT rain. And thirty percent chance of rain? Is no indication of HOW MUCH it will rain, or how hard.

As I learned this morning, having set out for the grocery store, Stinkerbelle in stroller, only to have it begin to rain.

It started to rain when we were — and I think this is key — about thirty percent done our trip. So we walked in thirty percent chance of rain for seventy percent of our trip.

And I’m one hundred percent wet.

3 thoughts on “Thirty Percent

  1. Ugh. I hate when that happens.

    Especially when:
    a) The sky looks mostly OK when you set out tricking you into thinking “Hmm, those clouds are mostly North-ish, so everything will be fine where we are going”

    b) You decide against taking protective gear of any kind, even though you have means of carrying it if not needed, like a stroller or a wagon.

    and number c) In the event of functional umbrella possession, the rain falls or is driven sideways.

    • @ Jade — Tru fax, ma’am. Don’t trust that weather no way, no how.

      And the whole time it rained, Stinkerbelle was all fussed about OMG THERE’S RAIN ON MY NOSE. I’m pushing a stroller with a grocery bag full of milk through the rain, and have given up my coat to cover That Kid, and she’s fixated on RAIN ON HER NOSE. ::shifty eyes::

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