Finished; time to go home. I was walking down Bloor Street when it started to trickle rain. Yah!... I was on top of my game. As I got within about 15 minutes of my house ― I was walking ― it started to really come down. And there was thunder and lightning. The umbrella is one wonderful little instrument, even if they are designed to be replaced in short order ― how short, I was to be educated. And then some. I turned onto the street leading to my own. (This street runs east-west). In case you have not faced a fire-crew spraying water right at you as you walk, and a film-crew blowing one of those wind machines two feet from your face, well then, you have not experienced what I experienced that dark night. Never have I been caught in such a driving, raining windstorm. The rain was attacking me in an almost horizontal plane. As I made my way, my umbrella was slowly but surely collapsing into a primitive form. What should have been a three-minute walk easily turned out to be double that. I was soaking wet. In case I did not understand how wet, I was continually reminded. My shoes became squishy from being waterlogged many times over. It was funny... I was laughing all the way. The sky was glowing with constant flashes from lightning bolts. With the same sense of humour which kept me in good, albeit damp, spirits, I periodically looked up and around at the sky, knowing that lighting would make a fabulous and fantastic background to a funnel cloud ― there were tornado warnings for the Toronto area, which kept me sharp and on the lookout. This rain-soaked bloke would not have been surprised if he thought he was looking at a certain rear-screen-projection from the classic 1939 movie, The Wizard of Oz.
I made it to my stoop. My umbrella had the look of a former umbrella. As the water unwrapped from my body, I stood there... watching the sky.
It was great.