Puddle jumper

After working all day on 10 articles related to fiber reinforced polymers (FRPs) and other composites (oh, how I wish I were making this up), I felt I'd earned a break from my apartment.

A good, long walk through the neighborhood was in order, and even though it was raining, I was looking forward to it. I figured I'd stop by the video store to get my fix next Sex and the City DVD and maybe stop someplace for food and a margarita (ahem).

I like 9th Avenue when it rains -- fewer people are on the sidewalk, and the inferior drainage creates plenty of puddles to leap o'er like a ballerina. What can I say? I'm a simple gal.

My walk took me over to 8th Avenue. Just as I was approaching 50th Street, I realized I'd -- gasp -- left my cellphone at home. For a brief, irrational moment, I panicked just a little. What if someone needed to reach me?!? What if I needed to call 911?!? For a split second I considered trotting back to my apartment to retrieve my phone, but then I realized how very much I did NOT need it at that moment. What I needed was an afternoon of walking -- in the rain, and alone with my thoughts.

I walked and walked and walked, the humid air teasing my hair into the curls that mysteriously started to appear on my head in my 20's. My feet, wet and rather slimy in my flip-flops, squished along in a precarious barely-staying-in-my-shoes sort of way. For a moment, I was reminded of another rainy New York afternoon, at least one lifetime ago. And for a moment, I was tempted to feel sad and nostalgic. But then it hit me: Despite the weight of the air bearing down on my body -- and the weight of decisions bearing down on my soul -- I felt lighter than I had in some time.