And the lawn gets wet though I've withheld my consent

As I walked to the bus stop (with an umbrella this time, for I am a crafty she-devil), I found myself engulfed in a most peculiar precipitation as the heavy rain took a sudden turn for the frozen. It was like mother nature had absently flipped the "rain" switch this morning and when she noticed a few hours later what she had done, she panicked, overrode the failsafes, and turned it all into snow at breakneck speed. But it wasn't actually snow, it was really more like razor sharp clumps of wet ice that sliced at any available exposed skin and soaked everything else. I wasn't sure if it was snowing water balloons or raining shurikens, but I was losing either way.

And then, of course, the drunkest man in the city sat next to me on the bus. I'm sure there have been drunker men in the history of mankind, but on average they are not riding the bus with me at 1 in the afternoon. There were three people on an otherwise empty bus, and he lurches down the aisle and sits on my purse. Fortunately I had forgotten my lunch this morning, or there would have been goulash everywhere. He spent the rest of the bus ride alternately leaning on me, trying to get his mack on with the severely disinterested woman in the seat ahead, wishing the world a "mer' chrsmsss inna hap...happy n'yurr!" and asking to listen to my ipod (answer was no).

That was the longest bus ride ever.