Fall has come, and I find myself ill prepared. Yesterday evening found me shivering on the sidewalk in a skirt with bare legs and sandals, desperately waiting for the light to turn so I could cross to Target and the warmth of the indoors. But how was I to know? When I left to catch my morning bus, the skies had been reassuringly sunny. Heading to work with only a cardigan over my little black top seemed only natural.
Today I fear I'm out of excuses, although I could claim that the discovery, a mere fifteen minutes prior to departure, that my wallet was nowhere to be found threw me off my game. Just in time to catch the 41, I ran down the road with a pocket full of pennies for bus fare and still only a cardigan on my back. Thus it was that I spent this evening's commute running through the rain bareheaded from one bus route to the next, all of which were late; I guess we really don't know how to drive in the rain in Seattle. At least this time I was wearing pants.
By the time I arrived home tonight, the reality of the season had sunk in, and I could see endless dark, damp nights stretching ahead of me. The three bus commute can be a joy in summer, but the winter waiting is merciless.
But who am I to complain? Next week at this time I'll be in the Greek islands, where the weather report promises sun and temperatures in the mid-seventies, enabling me to blissfully ignore reality for one more month. I can hardly wait.