Tonight I had meetings go a little longer at work than expected, so I didn’t even see the gathering storm clouds outside. By the time we broke to go back to our desks and execute some of the things we had been planning out I realized that it was raining.
Pouring. Like sheets of rain, wrath of God.
I had to be at home to record a guest spot on a podcast at 8 p.m., but wasn’t worried; I still had a little work to do and by then certainly the rain would let up, right?
And when it rains like that in Chicago during rush hour, it messes everything up; especially public transit. So even leaving the office with plenty of time to get home turned into making it home in time for that podcast looking pretty doubtful. And while waiting for a bus, the transit tracker listed it as coming in two minutes.
Five minutes later it was suddenly 13 minutes away.
Then 15 minutes away.
This, on top of everything else going on right now, had me on the verge of freaking out.
Long story short—I didn’t freak out; I made it home just in time; I looked like wet dog (Figure 1, though that doesn’t capture the full body soak down); and logged in just in time to talk about some music with some pretty great folks.
But holy mackerel, what a commute.