Intention

Today, the Matron attended an evening meeting which she was under NO particular obligation to attend and which mainly served to fuel a certain smugness that comes from being a good citizen.

Said smugness and self-satisfaction quickly dissipated when she returned to her van to find a ticket for $111!!! That's a whole lotta change, folks! Aghast (when was the last time you were aghast?), she scanned the ticket for cause: expired tabs on the license plates.

What?

Now the Matron and dear husband are diligent about these matter. Still, she scooted down to those plates only to see that someone had scraped off her 2012 tabs! Victim! So much for good citizenship.

Instead of wallowing, the Matron vowed to NOT let this unpleasant incident --and the required follow-up with traffic court or whatever government entity could prove that she'd paid her dues -- bring her down. No! She would continue on as the good citizen.

Even better! She would be spiritual, buoyant, ethereal, even.

In that spirit, she ran some errands before work. Because Minnesota is currently in the midst of a heat wave, those errands were basically a lesson in sweat (with a heat index of about 118 not that she's keep track). Soaked in sweat, yours truly was not unhappy to see the sky darken. A thunderstorm in the making!

Still ethereal and all things peace, the sudden downpour --as in flash flood levels of rain -- out of the blue didn't bother her. No matter that she was in her work clothes, standing outside of a library with her van and UMBRELLA (conveniently in the trunk) two blocks away. No! No matter. She would simply get wet and dry off before the job began.

So she darted and slipped through the torrent. Thoroughly soaked, and somewhat less sanguine, she couldn't find the right button to unlock the car.

Click, click, click.

Matron: " < Insert profanity of your choice >"

The car finally open, she wrestled with the trunk. Rain continued. Now her underwear was soaked and her shoes probably ruined. The damn trunk finally opened. She grabbed the umbrella (why, she wonders in retrospect when she could have just jumped in the car) but the umbrella handle looped into the trunk and got stuck!

Profanity of your choice, uttered the Matron.

After some pouring, she yanked the umbrella out -- now the wind was whipping at about 50 miles an hour, adding an interesting aesthetic twist to the torrential rain -- only to find that the trunk was now broken and would not shut.

Rain poured in that, too. Which also meant she couldn't drive.

Giving up, she decided to dash into a nearby coffee shop to dry off and have some tea instead of sitting in the car while waiting for the rain to stop.

Dash.

And . . . her purse handle broke, sending the purse and its contents all across the street. In the rain and wind, while her open, broken trunk looked at her longingly and the clock said ten minutes before she was due at work and now her internal organs were wet, never mind the underwear.

Ethereal, indeed.