Could Monday get any worse?
Yes. It could.
As we walked across the parking lot outside our apartment I felt a spot of rain on my face, followed by another, and then the rumble of thunder as I realized I was about to experience my first tropical storm.
I ran to the car as the heavens opened and slammed the door behind me.
I was drenched - I looked like a drowned rat, and my clothes were saturated.
Brooke started up the car.
“We’ll be late if we don’t go now, I’m sure you’ll dry off by the time we get there.”
I groaned, and she turned on the heater full blast in an attempt to dry us off.
The heater smelled like burning hair, but it was better than the alternative.
I was not going to mention the fact I missed the heated seats in my dad’s car. I didn’t want to think about that right
