Doce me faces voluntarem tuam quia Deus meus es tu

Tuesday, March 22, 2005
I am not the most astute guy you'll ever meet, but there are a few sure signs that you might have a bad day. Mine starts off with oversleeping. Sleep is nice, mind you, but I don't need to miss an 8 a.m. class. Even better is when I almost sleep through the next class. I rush through the shower and out the door, barely stopping to dress myself. I am getting over a cold. I roll the window down halfway, in the rain, to...um...take care of the business that colds require us to take care of. Let's just say I don't quite make it out the window.

I am within a mile of campus when I am stopped at the train tracks. By a very long train. I suffered through class in an all-too-humid classroom only to be told that my paper would not be returned until next time. Thanks, dude. Everyone else in the room gets to read their verdict, but I'm still hanging in there. The good stuff was on the way. I walk out of class and into a deep-fried Dirty South Heart of Dixie thunderstorm. I'm dry from the waste up; thank Heaven for my Marmot waterproof shell. The waist on down is another story altogether. It is raining, and raining hard. And the wind is blowing. In my direction. Initially it only looks like I spilled a drink in my lap, but in a few minutes passersby get the impression that I might have been hosed down by a fireman. I have to walk around a quarter of a mile, at least, to my car. There are puddles everywhere. If there is no puddle, then there is mud. My shoes are soaked. My socks are soaked. My pants are soaked. I am cold. I look as though I just jumped into the Black Warrior River, because, you know, what's a Tuesday morning without a swim in a filthy river? That's right, it's fulfilling. I am not fulfilled this morning; I am cold and wet and miserable.

So I am.

What about it? I have a car to climb into and I drive home to my apartment to change before work. Some folks would have been forced to go on to work, wet or dry. Others might not have had a car; they just keep walking in the rain and mud and puddles. Or maybe they have a bad Tuesday because their children or friends or fathers were mowed down in cold blood by a messed up kid. Or maybe their daughter is slowly being starved and dehydrated by a husband who just can't let go. Or maybe they're still trying to rebuild their villages because the ocean swallowed it whole. Or maybe they're preparing to bury a child that was brutalized and murdered by a psychopath.

No, thank God, my day wasn't quite so bad.
5:37 PM :: ::
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