Apparently the universe doesn’t want me to move

Just when I’m halfway between the mail depot and my office on campus (about three blocks in either direction), a torrential storm slams down from a clear blue sky. Soaks the cardboard box I’ve just gotten and whips the Styrofoam packing popcorn two feet in the air within seconds. It’s one of those days when I’m too tired to do anything but laugh, dry off, and try again tomorrow.

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