In the office, the rain on the roof sounded exactly like someone was faking it with a rainstick. The drops were small, precise, hitting the metal roof like needles, extraordinarily consistent. Though there was a sort of ebb and flow to the storm, at no point did it stop. Bad news for my bike and me.
The rain sound was definitely coming from the clouds, not from someone with a stalk of dried cactus trying to bring on a storm. I left the bike outside the building, made the trek to my apartment and then the restaurant on foot. Halfway to the Diag, I realized my left rain boot had split down the heel. Now I have to go back and get my bike, again on foot, because there's no other way to get from one job to the next on time tomorrow. It will be raining then, too.
I desperately miss the lover-cats. And another cat, but we'll talk about him later, because he deserves a lot more words. I do appreciate my "ice cube" walls, and my shiny spotless new white desk, and the warmth of candlelight before bed.