World of Wet

We’ve had a day and a half of steady rain and water is rising up all over. My own basement is soaked in one corner, but not nearly so bad as last year’s storm of the century, and not even close to some of the flooding that’s taking place in other parts of town.

I had a super-drenching ride to the bus this morning, down Jackson Street in a heavy downpour; it was fun to race the water cascading down the hill, but a little bit scary not being able to see potholes and other road hazards; I got a pretty good jolt to the crotch when I hit a hole hidden in a puddle, but fortunately, my tires were well pumped-up, so no snakebite flat.

The bus ride out to Cascadia was something of an adventure; great sprays of water launching from the wheelwells of the vehicle; and the fogged-up windows made me all sleepy with weird dreams about leprechauns in boats.

In downtown Bothell, the line of cars was backed up solid for the final mile to campus; I hopped off the bus and rode the rest of way, arriving at school a good twenty-five minutes before passengers who stayed on did.

This afternoon, administration closed down school at 3:30; I took off about an hour before that and enjoyed a somewhat longer and far wetter than usual commute home.

The Burke-Gilman trail offered up some interesting sights: the Bothell slough overflowing right up to the trail, ducks swimming just a few feet from the asphalt. In Lake Forest Park, a stream had backed up, creating a little lake, completely flooding the trail and a couple houses. Farther on, I encountered one, two, three mudslides, the first two passable by walking the bike, the third, requiring me to exit the trail altogether.

But now I’m home, all warm and toasty, socks drying on the radiators. What’s missing? Maybe single malt whiskey, neat.

But not anymore.