The heavens opened. Water dumped down. Within ten minutes, the Arvo Job office building was surrounded by rivers and lakes, and the foyer was flooded. An hour later, it was still raining heavily. I paddled across the park and waited in the pouring rain for half an hour only to discover the trams weren’t running, so I waded up Clarendon St and swam past the casino, offering the occasional scampering stranger shelter beneath my umbrella as I went. By the time I finally reached the train station, my pants were wet up to my knees, my shoes were sodden, my coat was dripping, and the rest of me was merely saturated. Waterlogged, I lumbered to the usual platform only to find a portly train man dispensing the news that the trains weren’t running either. A squelchy jog to the distant bus terminals was then required.
Finally - oh, joy - a long bus ride home in clothes I could wring water from. And then a nice (not) rejection waiting for me when I got home to round off the work week.
TGIF. Or at least it was an hour ago.
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