I didn’t notice it was raining this morning until I looked out of the window while finally gathering my own things together. This typically happens after making breakfasts, lunches, washing up, and (at the moment) making sure our eldest daughter is up, and has taken her medication. Given the unpredictability of children – who may get up at 6am on a weekend, and two hours later on a weekend – after placing several sticks of dynamite under their bed – I tend to get ready to leave the house with minutes to spare. Often the speed I cycle to work is entirely dependent on how late I am.
The fact that I often arrive in the office some time before the rest of the staff isn’t important – or how I often arrive half an hour before a certain somebody that shall remain nameless (or should we rather say – “how on earth does a certain member of staff get away with being so damn late almost every day, and then eat breakfast at his desk for the next half hour of the day?”).
Let’s get back on track.
While throwing my rather pathetic lunch into the backpack this morning, I glanced out of the window, and saw the persistent, heavy rain falling. Fine, I thought – I’ll just put the leggings and waterproof on, and cover the bag with the waterproof cover I bought a few months back. I cycled to work through the puddles, listened to music on an old MP3 player, and did my best to avoid the rainy-day school-run parents, driving their children to school from 200 yards away because they will obviously dissolve if they get wet.
I didn’t really notice how wet I had got until I arrived in the office, and left a trail of water on the floor not unlike a comedy north-sea oil platform operative bursting in a door with fake movie waves being thrown at it. Not a problem. I had a change of clothes. A change of clothes, all except socks and shoes.
Have you ever peeled socks off after jumping in a river with them on? They grow to twice the length. I know, because mine looked pretty spectacular, stretched over the radiator in the un-used end office. Spectacular is perhaps the wrong word. Sad is a better word.
I spent the second day in as many weeks wandering around the offices bare-foot. Thankfully we had no clients in. I guess you could always use the “I’m a bit alternative” defence if challenged (I was once described as such by the manager of a company in the city, after not getting my hair cut for some time – yes, I had long hair once upon a time).
While getting changed in the office, it dawned on me while half-dressed that the pretty lady that lives across the way could probably have seen much more than either she or I had bargained for, if she had looked sideways from her bathroom window. I figure the chances of this are extremely low though, so won’t become too embarassed the next time I see her.
After wandering round the office like a hippie all day, I of course had to put the leggings back on to get home (or chainsaw another pair of jeans – not too keen on doing that). Have you ever tried putting wet leggings on? It’s pretty damn weird. It feels like pulling a second, baggy skin on over your own.
After stepping from the office in the skin tight leggings, with my bike helmet, shades, and backpack sorted out, guess who I walked straight into… the pretty lady from across the way. I completely avoided eye contact with her and busied myself with choosing music on the MP3 player for the journey for quite some time. Mostly because I’m stupid.