July 23, 1999

The plan, as I conceived it, was simple. At 5:00 I would drive out to Subway and pick up something for Jay and myself. A simple supper on a hot Friday evening. Then I'd digest a bit and go for a jog.

But at 4:55 the sky grew dark, thunder pummeled the humid air, rain began to fall. A big heavy midwestern rain. I stood in the rec room by the patio door and felt a spray of cool water on my legs. It was blowing in around the windows, dribbling down. I sat to wait and heard loud dripping over in the fireplace. I guess we're not so watertight around here.

In half an hour the wind and rain slowed. I dashed out to the car, relieved to be finally moving toward food. But a railroad track crosses Hawley. Lights flashed, cars piled up, but in two minutes a short Metra train passed. Lights remained flashing, gates stayed down, cars began to lose patience as a malfunction became apparent. I got out of line and headed south towards a roundabout path I knew, but I had not considered Elevation. Tonight that translated into flooded roads, some quite deep. You know that feeling as you face a broad puddle? Forward or not? The other cars seem to be doing ok. Mine did too, but not without some twinges of driver panic.

I had a mission and was not to be daunted, wove my course past kids in street pools watched over by tired adults. I got myself to Subway. A dark Subway, a closed down Subway on a Friday at suppertime. I took the northern route (with better Elevation) back home.

Plan B: a mess of pasta for Jay and myself. He gets the last of the meat sauce. I get olive oil, oregano, and the last of the Romano.

As I type this, the jogging remains iffy. But it was a nifty adventure. No, it was a pretty sorry adventure, and it suggests the nature of my day. But tomorrow I get to rise early, chug on down to Plainfield, pick up my lovely affable cargo, and rumble on down to Mom's for some kind of party in anticipation of someone's 80th birthday.