So around a half-hour ago, I realized I was out of cigarettes, and although it was raining pretty seriously, all you addicts in the crowd will understand that Out-Of-Cigarettes is a crisis that justifies going out into the friggin' Apocalypse. So I got my umbrella, headed out to the car, and as soon as I got in, the skies opened.
I would say that I've never SEEN such rain, except that I have, twice: once in Santa Cruz in '82 when the San Lorenzo came within a couple of inches of overflowing the dikes; and once in '87 when a supercell stalled over the Twin Cities and we got ten inches in an hour and everyone's basement flooded.
In any event, it was the sort of rain when having an umbrella really makes no difference whatsoever, because all air has been displaced by water. Driving, it was exactly like being in a carwash, lacking only the big rotating brush and the cloth strips going swush-swush. The five steps into the convenience store and back out to the car got me drenched all over; getting out of the car once home got me instantly soaked up to the knees, because the curbs were hubcap-deep in fast-running water. All traffic on the freeway was at a dead stop (I noted with some schadenfreude), on the city streets I could creep along no faster than 10 mph because I couldn't see, and two blocks from my house I crossed paths with some poor sod heading home on a bicycle.
The whole thing made me insanely gleeful, as do all incursions of wild irrational weather not involving Hellish Heat, and (having now changed my clothes and shoes) I'm still sitting here grinning, purely cheerful for the first time in weeks.
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