The Deluge

A word that one might be justified in using to describe the weather patterns in the early afternoon here in Rochester is deluge. Or potentially torrent, or cataclysm. In the short walk (i.e. 3 metres) from the car to my hotel room, I had become moist enough to warrant a total change of clothes and towel drying. I wish that I could have taken a decent picture of a few drenched and miserable turkey vultures that I saw huddled on a water tower on the trip from the magical happy pancake land where we ate lunch to our hotel. In fact, I felt much like Dennis Nedry/Newman must have just prior to his very dignified demise.

In addition to the utter drenching, there’s a magnificent thunder and lightning show going on, with the exciting new special feature of tactile feedback accompanying each thunderclap. I am slightly worried that I may drown on the way to the Mayo shuttle in half an hour. I will inform you all if I somehow survive wading through the Congo river that is now the parking lot.



About narsi1ion

My name is Tessa. I'm 27 years old, and I live in Hamilton ON, previously Calgary AB. I'm battling recently-diagnosed fibromyalgia, and steadily improving chronic dizziness. Things that I don't get angry at: Bunnies, Gerard Butler, Blood donors, The colour purple, Parrots, Flan.
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