Scurry, Mortals!

[woodwardiocom]

(Brief aside: My desk chair here at home is within sight of its last legs, to mix a metaphor. [squeak, tilt])

Another advantage of my new job: I'm on the 20th floor of my building, facing west. Around 5, 5:15, I noticed that I couldn't see the hills of Arlington anymore. My officemates and I gathered around the windows.

"Yep, I think the monoliths at Fresh Pond are about gone."
"The folks on the ground haven't noticed yet."
"Can't see Cambridge any more."
"The people on the street are starting to thin out. I think a couple are running."
"Citgo sign is gone."
"They're definitely moving faster now."
"There goes the State Capitol."
"Hah, look at 'em run!"
"Here come the sheets of rain!"
"They're so cute when they scurry while fumbling with their umbrellas!"
"Damn, can't see across the street, now."
"Can barely see down to the street, either . . . "

Fortunately, our building has a tunnel to South Station, and the rain was nearly over by the time I got to Davis. 'Cause, hey, it's good to be me.

Comments

[sir-goober.livejournal.com]

That sounds distinctly like Bradbury dialogue -- intentional?

[mizarchivist]

speaking of scurrying mortals, I finally got around to finishing If I Were An Evil Overlord, which had been waiting patiently for me to have the attention span to get back to it. (It was bedside reading for many months and often usurped by comics and the like).

I didn't get to see the storm progression. Just noticed it getting dark when it's not normally dark. Now K. has to park in a small pond at home. Again.

[tisana.livejournal.com]

Yeah, that was a fun cloudburst, wasn't it?
I barely made it into the gym, and all hell broke loose above me.

[(Anonymous)]

Around 5, 5:15 yesterday, I was cashing out at the Star market on Mt Auburn Street in Watertown. It was pretty light out when I entered 30 minutes earlier, but now it was dark. TOO dark. Once I paid and rolled away with my cartful of groceries, I saw what was happening out there: The rain was coming down in buckets. BIG buckets, and the wind was blowin' a gale. My raincoat was safely secured in my car, thirty yards away. Other shoppers joined me outside the automatic doors, under the overhang, marveling in the unusual weather, kind of like the shoppers in Stephen King's THE MIST, right before the tentacles and killer bugs arrive. Now I know what it's like to be under one of those red blotches on the weather map... Nathaniel

[dana325.livejournal.com]

The hail in Melrose was pretty impressive!