Today it rained, and I

Today it rained, and I fell out of the bus while trying to get in, and it stormed and lightning'd out Waiheke Island all the way in on the ferry, and I walked in the bluster to Serious Espresso for a coffee, and Therase said "hi michelle, is it cold enough for you?" and I told her it was and she laughed, and made me a cup of coffee to take away with me and I did and she called after me asking if I'd be coming back for lunch and I said I might but I never did, and I took my white corrugated takeaway coffee cup full of steaming Millers coffee made perfectly for me to my place of work, and sipped it along the way then drank the rest of it at my desk, where I found the the coffee pot Rosie was letting me borrow to test drive, and then I checked my mail, and then I checked the news, and then I read a funny little job application that was wholey sweet and compact and to-the-point and we laughed, a little more than you'd expect seeing as the applicant's first language was obviously not English, but not in ridicule as much as in joy at the sweet compactness of the letter, and then I did some work - but not as much as you'd expect - and my leg hurt from falling out of the bus and I had a sachet of Uncle Toby's porridge for breakfast at morning tea a few hours later than planned but you can still say it was breakfast, and I did some more work, but again, not as much as you'd expect - and I answered the phone, and I answered it again, and I talked to James, and I made him laugh, and I wrote down the message he gave me but I didn't do as he asked, but I will tomorrow because I'm not as spontaneous as I should be in many regards, and then Rosie ran away at the thought of my lunch, and I had salmon on toast while she was at Downtown, and Chris told me it was hailing in Papatoetoe and I looked outside and it was sunny, but not as sunny as you'd expect, and I read some stuff on company branding and my leg hurt, and I changed the server tapes, and I answered the phone, and made a cup of tea, and Rosie came back after a while, and I talked to Rosie about our website, and I told a little girl selling sweets that we didn't want any, and I talked to Rosie about TUANZ, and we looked at competitor's sites and I became demoralised and saddened at my lack of abilities and berated myself, a lot more than you'd expect I suspect, and I noticed it was stormy outside, and I talked to Rosie outloud, and I confused Chris on MSN, and I talked to Rosie in whispers, and Chris told me it was hailing again, and I looked outside and it was raining, about as much as you'd expect, and I talked to Rosie using MSN, but just as much as you'd expect, and then I talked to Mitch, I had spoken to Mitch earlier in the day when I told her my leg hurt and she laughed at my falling-out-of-the-bus story and after a while, Rosie went home, but not as early as you'd think, and I followed not long afterwards, and the street was windy, and the ferry was overly warm, and the boys sitting by me talked about the cricket and the share price of 42Below, and about sharing potato chips and it made my concentration from my papers I was reading on company branding waiver, then we bumped into the Ferry Landing at Half Moon Bay and everyone queued to get off but not me because I hate queuing for unimportant stuff, and then I walked up to my bus, and it smells of raspberry jelly, more than you'd expect a bus to smell like raspberry jelly and my bus driver brought me home telling me not to slip and hurt myself twice in one day, and laughed, but not as much as you might think, and I had left over chicken casserole for tea, and it was as good as I was hoping it would be, and now my knees are cold and Louis Armstrong is singing on my stereo and Ella Fitzgerald is helping him out and my house is as snug as you might expect a snug house should be, especially as the weather rages outside more than you might expect for this time of the year but who the heck remembers how it was this time *last* year anyway, fewer than you'd expect, I'd expect, and I'm going to take my hurt leg and put it to bed and leave a hastily scribbled note (with haste that is no reflection of the depth of feeling I have for her but more an indication of the temperature of my knees at this point) to Freya saying "Thankyou for the postcard, Darling Girl".