The injustice of a day in wet jeans

I am angry that I got wet when everything was getting wet from the rain that drenched us. I was swearing as I arrived at the end of my 5 minute bike ride. With more water on me, than I expected would be when I started. I was happy when I was in the building no longer getting wet from the rain that soaked the outside. Then it stopped. It didn’t stop when I asked that it would, thinking that it should, for my own good, when I was at home observing the sky and asking. I am angry that I thought It would never cease and that to wait 10 minutes would to be to waste 10 minutes. Im angry that I thought I wouldn’t get too wet and so in such hope rode off down the road without a change of clothes. I thought I was clever in my endeavour as I spent 5 minutes in the toilet with a towel that I found, that I slung around my waste and with my pants being dried by the hand dryer. I didn’t have the patience to wait for them to get fully dry. I am here now not fully dry, with cold legs just waiting for all the water to leave my jeans. I am cold and I know why from science, that the water is sapping heat from me as it makes its transition from liquid to gas, a process requiring energy, and energy I will give, but cold I will feel. With my hands I make friction, heat to evaporate this worry. I expect it will take hours, maybe I should have put them in the hand dryer longer. I am angry because I emerged from the toilet to look out the window to see the sun and to find no rain. I am angry that I am angry and I hope I will get over it so I can do something else with my self. But my legs that are cold from my pants that are wet, they remind me that I am angry. I’m not so angry now I have told the world on my blog that I write whenever I like. I am considering going to dry them some more in the toilet on the second floor. But I’m still deciding.