I checked the weather reports before I left for work on Wednesday, even broke it out into 15 minute intervals, and the rain wasn’t necessarily going to fall, and if it did, maybe not until 10 at the earliest, and I was catching the 9:25 train. I did a little online shopping for the rain pants I wished I had and then rode under threatening skies to the train station. And then those skies opened up and I rethought that “I’ll get them later” moment at the bike shoppe when they asked me if I wanted to add fenders to the Brompty. I wasn’t going to ride this thing in the rain–I’d take my car. Oh well, another lesson learned. I stood under the overhang at the station, staring at these dry cars all lined up in the rain, wondering what to do, what to do. I considered waiting for the bus, but because bus stops seem designed by people who never take them, there was no shelter, which would mean getting wet anyway. I waited til the downpour turned to just regular old rain and then made my way slowly to campus. I arrived soggy from the waist down, the rain jacket having done its job. My pants were a spray of dirt and salt, so I closed my office door, stripped them off, and tossed on a skirt I left there one day–no memory of why, but there it was. The ride back was dry but the streets were wet and my skirt got its own skunk stripe. No bad weather, only bad clothing and, in this case, equipment. I stopped at the bike shoppe on my way home and placed my order for fenders, because those certainly weren’t my last puddles.