So the weather was gorgeous today. Highs in the mid nineties, sunny, a nice 2 to 3 foot easterly swell rolling in. So I blast out of work. I push a racing line through the parking lot, damn near taking a few slowpokes out at the knees. I blaze home taking corners at 30 or 40 mph, checking blindspots, working the clutch like a one-legged man on a unicycle. I slide up into the driveway, haul ass into the house and start changing clothes. I don't even get into my bathing suit and rash guard before the floodgates open. It's friggin pouring.

That's the thing about the southeast coast in the summer time. The air gets so humid, that if it didn't rain before 4:30 everyday we'd rowing home in rush hour instead of driving. It's that damn humid.

The good thing is that usually these storms blow over in about thirty minutes, and then I can hit the beach. I just fucking hate waiting.