Rain; Workers; Wet; Lunch; More Wet; Headache

Around 4, one of the cats woke me by rattling the wooden venetian blinds in the window next to my bed. I'm sure this is done very deliberatley, since this is the only time she does it The idea of course is that once I'm awake, I can easily be conned into going to the kitchen to open tins of catfood. Which I did.

Within a few minutes of returning to bed, I could hear the plop plop of raindrops. Which quickly became a steady splash.

When I got up to go to work, the world outside was gray and overcasted and dull looking. As I fumbled out the door with jacket, book bag, checkbook, magazine, bottle of coke, and letters to mail, I could feel the tiniest water vapor in the air.

Ahead of me in line was a quartet of construction workers, electrical if the logo on their truck was true. They had that sorta of battered air such guys have in the morning, as though it's far too early to be out and about. And there's a hint of nervous energy. And always an unselfconscious sense of body. Unaware that anyone would have any reason to watch them. Arms are pulled overhead in a long stretch. And when they leave, they shuffle out the door.

These are guys that attract your imagination. But you know better than to say something. And any interaction would be all physical surfaces and contours. And if you had one, you wouldn't know what to do with him, except maybe dip him in detergent. Then throw him back to the pack.

I'd been so busy that I'd not noticed it was raining. Splashing my way to my car, it took only a few seconds for me to become very wet.

As I traveled north along the frontage road, I noticed that the ten-story hotel to the north was lost in the haze and water. As was the hospital to the south.

I stopped at the bank to deposit my pay check. Another splatter though the rain. And surprisngly, the bank was not crowded. One of the clerks was trying to stuff all the holiday trimings back into a large cardboard box. But it was proving to be a mighty struggle. I told him I was glad to know that I was not the only one who had not figured out how to do that.

For lunch I had a club sandwich with sweet tea and a chocolate chip cookie. I was able to nab a small table in the corner which gives me an unobstructed view of the room. But the sandwich kept crumbling, so I spend most of my time trying not to drop it on the floor or dribble mustard onto myself.

I have an invitation to a party this evening, but I doubt that I will go given the way I feel. It's a big splashy affair with lots and lots of food and beverages. And primarily a "family affair." But also one marked by cliquishness. The last couple of times I've been, I've felt isolated. Alas that guys can not do better at being a tad friendlier.

PAX!