Last night when I finished my workday, the fragrance of cool rain on warm asphalt greeted me as I stepped into the night. The glowering clouds teased all day: at noon, seventeen raindrops had splashed car windshields in the county; at four, another three dollops had blurred the lenses of glasses. By late evening, the rain had become sincere � not serious, but sincere � and the rain continued during the drive home � not the gully washer we needed, but not a drizzle either � accumulating just faster than it evaporated, leaving puddles, shining and audible. Damp from the rain, khaki lawns smelled like wet straw.

In a region that gets about thirty-two inches of precipitation per year, the newspaper reported on Tuesday night that about eighteen inches have fallen here so far this year, about eight fewer than might have fallen if clouds heeded The Mercury and history. This morning, the rain still whispers, tires sizzle on the streets, and cracked gumbo sucks up every drop that doesn't fall on pavement.

No conversation crosses my eyes faster than the one that begins "Did you see [insert name of any popular television program] last night?" My brow furrows involuntarily and a tight smile crosses my lips and my cheeks to bridle the moan that wants to escape my throat.

If I respond that I have seen the show, then the follow-up questions will begin "Did you see the part where..."

If I respond that I have not seen it, well, that's an invitation, isn't it.

I have never figured out how to escape this trap, except by leaving. Unfortunately, if I'm struggling to coax a very limp and recalcitrant dollar bill into a very picky snack machine so that I can purchase and consume that very alluring cello-wrapped package of preservatives that hangs on the other side of the Plexiglas, then (obviously) I'm not busy, so I should have time to listen to the tale. Or worse, if I've exchanged my limp dollar bill � the last of its denomination in my wallet � for the crisp one offered by my cheery interrogator, then I'm indentured to him or her. As attractive as the prospect of escaping to a stall in the restroom with a packaged snack in hand might become, it remains worse than tasteless.

Okay, that's off my chest. That was the most notable thing that has happened to me so far this week. Sad, no?

Reading:
Finished Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire over the weekend. Immediately started reading The Hobbit. I might be the last survivor of the sixties to be reading it for the first time.

Weathering:
Sunday was an open-window day, all day and night.

Watching:
For the next two weeks my soul belongs to NBC and the Olympics. The KSU football game wasn't televised, but I checked the KSU-Ball State football score on the internet from time to time (76-0). It's too late in the season to be playing a tune-up game against a hapless and overmatched parks-and-rec caliber team. KSU played the second-string QB midway through the second quarter. The fourth-string QB finished the game.