It started like this:
Me: Yeah, I’ll finish that and fax it over. Oh wow, it’s raining so hard right now.
Intern: It just stopped over here. Beth left her windows down.
Me: OH GOD MY WINDOWS. I have to go.
So then I had to run across the parking lot, that had its own impromptu river rushing through the middle of it, though I think “run” is the wrong word, because okay, I was wearing sandals, and you can’t run in sandals in the rain. Through three inches of (really dirty, mind you) running water. At least not in those sandals. Because if I had tried, I probably would’ve fallen over. Into the parking lot river. That would’ve been entirely upsetting, and I think upsetting myself is very overrated indeed. And anyway, then I had to roll up my car windows, and not-exactly-run back to the office, by which time my clothes were all plastered to my skin and my shirt was completely see-through, which isn’t really a look I want to go for, oh, ever, but especially not when working where I work. So I had to go home and change. And wash off the mascara that was running down my face, with a piece of toilet paper, because all the washcloths were downstairs in the dryer and I didn’t have time for that. I apparently did have time to take a photo of myself though (the first photo I’ve taken in nearly three months, in fact), because, you know, I have my priorities in order.
And then I walked out of my house and the rain had stopped, but the driver’s seat of my car was so wet from earlier that when I got back to work, the pants I had changed into were wet. Nice.
The point is that, in case you were wondering, the answer is yes. I do still live a life of completely unintentional adventure.