…I love it. I really do. But I liked it better in England. The campus I lived on there had covered paths between all of the buildings, so you could walk from one side of campus to the other without getting even a little wet, unless the rain was blowing sideways (which it sometimes was). I also didn’t have very much going on when I was over there apart from class (five hours a week of it), so the weather didn’t really interrupt anything.
Today I learned a lot about umbrellas. It seems that when the fabric tears loose from just one of the spindles (I have no idea what they’re called, those things that radiate from the stem and make an umbrella what it is), the whole umbrella destabilizes, turning inside-out at the slightest hint of wind in the wrong direction. And trying to predict the direction of the wind today was a futile task. As I walked through a sea of suffocating earthworms to buy some coffee, I thought to myself that it could be a lot worse, though. At this distance from the ground (which is to say not on it), at least the air is crisp and smells nice. And the storm is set to subside tomorrow…if you believe in weather reports anymore after the last incident — personally, I consider them briefly, but leave the verdict to my senses. There’s a Simon & Garfunkel song, “The Only Living Boy in New York,” with a line: “I get the news I need from the weather report.” That keeps running through my head, and I keep hoping that the kid doesn’t need any news at all… which I think may be the point. Anyway. I’m rambling.