Blasphemous

That's what I'm being right now. Blasphemous. I'm standing at the window, watching it rain and praying for it to stop. Hopefully Kevin-the-Gardener, and all the other NYers, won't find out.

I have a lunch date with a hip 30 year old New Yorker and I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to be seen with a soaking wet, orange-rainhat-clad (especially the latter), obviously-not-a-New-Yorker person.

Unfortunately Durf took the car -- and the umbrella -- to work.

It pains me to buy another umbrella. We must have ten of them at home in CO, where it doesn't rain. It sure does rain here, though. Did I mention it's raining? And that I don't have an umbrella? Or a car? And the train station is 1.7 miles away?

There's only one thing I can think of that might stem my anxiety: Snickers for breakfast.