Those Rainy Day Refusing to Rain, Blues
Temperatures have been in the 90s most of the week. We’re suffering through another September heatwave. The swelter let up this morning, but the humidity rose to the occasion to keep things awful. You can see the air. It is a soup of moisture, car exhaust, garbage stink, and something unhealthy wafting from the sewers. It clings. My phone alerts warn of a severe thunderstorm risk and possible flash flooding. A singular thundercloud passes over the neighborhood, with nothing but bluster and a smattering of heavy raindrops. It’s gone in 20 minutes. The weatherman predicts more heat, humidity, and thunderstorms next week.
The corporations are making everyone work from their ticky-tacky office towers again, which is among the least of my complaints. I usually walk to the office. It’s not far. But hopping a bus in a pinch may become a thing now that cab drivers are nearly extinct, so I went to the 2nd Street MFL station to buy a Septa Key card from the kiosks they claim dispense them. I could not convince either of the two machines to give me a card. The kiosks are remarkably filthy. I think we’ve given up on civilization. At any rate, giving up on getting a Key card seemed the better option compared to spending all morning catching hepatitis from a touch screen.
It’s 5 p.m. I’m in my pajamas, blasting the air-conditioning, and listening to a Pandora chill-out mix on low. Not arguing with a repulsive kiosk. Not working 12- and 14-hour days. Not answering a million questions. Not solving other people’s problems. Not being outstanding. Not accomplishing anything. I’m a singular thundercloud, sitting in my new chair, listening to music, and quietly hoping for rain.