Conversation inevitably turns to the weather. How do you answer elevator questions about the rain and maintain your composure when the water is literally dripping off your nose? I still wouldn’t want your job on a day like this. How do you talk about the rain after the fact without whining and complaining??? How do you hangout in wet socks for nine hours and talk about happy happy joy joy wonderful things? Maybe you don’t.
Supersaturation is a chemistry term describing the unusual circumstances that occur to allow an extra high amount of a dissolved material to be in solution. However I speak of the supersaturation that occurs when you’re out on a bike and you cannot possibly get any more wet. Wet wetter wettest. Soaked. Supersaturated. When this state is achieved you start to laugh maniacally and repeat nonsense phrases out loud. Extra profanity is added to everything. There is, however, a Zen-like state of relaxation that comes with the realization that you can’t absorb anymore water. Calculating the number of hours left in the work day doesn’t help. Time slows down. Slows to a crawl, raindrops seem to float in the air as if they are waiting for you, waiting for you to ride closer so they can each take their turn to hit you in the eye. So they can each take their turn to land on you and not on the street.
Fingers and toes wrinkled up and pruned, not dried plum, but pruned up like too much time in the bathtub. Two trench foot tacos to go. Walking on. Walking around in bread sacks full of grey water rubber banded to your ankles. Try it some day, just for nine hours. Conditions cannot be duplicated only simulated. Off camber slicker handi ramp squirrelly squishy bubbly sock juice. Smells of wet wool retro grouch gloves. Outfitted in the finest Capitol Hill thrift store gear sprinkled with REI. Dickies dry quick if the rain lets up. Swamp ass impressions left on fine office furniture everywhere. Chamois damp wetness revisited. Add Comment