Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
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Online Since 1999
started off as usual, the morning routine, the commute to work, the
office tasks, with the only thing unusual being a trip to the employee
clinic where I get allergy shots. Nothing exciting around here; that's
I left the building to walk across the street to the clinic. As I
stood waiting for the light to change, I noticed a black cloud in the
"Looks as if we might get some rain," commented an elderly
gentleman also waiting for the light.
"I was thinking the same thing." I agreed.
No point in going back for an umbrella as far away as that cloud was,
though I vaguely remembered something about thunder showers on the TV
weather that morning.
I signed in at the clinic and sat down to wait. Others people came in
mumbling about how dark it looked outside. I began to get a bit
nervous. "I wish they would hurry up so I can get out of here
before the rain comes."
It was only a matter of minutes, but it seemed like hours before they
finally called my name. As soon as I was done, I headed back, in spite
of the fact that I was supposed to wait for 20 minutes before leaving.
I didn't have 2 minutes to spare, much less 20.
When I came to the glass doors going outside, I couldn't believe my
eyes. In a matter of mere minutes, the bright sun was gone and an
ominous darkness prevailed.
I better run.
I hurried, certain I still had time to make it back before the rain
began -- certain but wrong. I got to middle of the street and the
bottom fell out. The rain began to pour. I ran to the closest building
and huddled in the doorway with all the other people huddled there.
"I can't stand here forever. It could be hours until it decides
to stop." I decided to make a dash for it.
Lightning flashed and thunder crashed. The rain began blowing in
sheets. I could feel it soaking my shirt and my shoes were swamped.
Water was trickling into my eyes and as I brushed it away, I realized
my hair was soaked.
Why didn't I wait? Why didn't I take an early lunch hour and stay
until the rain stopped? A monsoon poured down on me. It must be a
tsunami. That much water couldn't come from the sky.
My hair was dripping, my clothes drenched, even my underwear was wet.
The security guard gave me a suspicious eye but let me pass when I got
back. I tried to sneak on the elevator, but wouldn't you just know
that someone who knew me would get on.
"Gee," she commented, "was it really that important to
get back to work?"
"I love this place," I said sarcastically. "Can't keep
I sneaked into the ladies room where I tried to dry my hair with paper
towels. It was pretty hopeless. I was going to be wet for a while. I
returned to my desk and no one seemed to notice. Hard to believe how
involved people are in their own lives.
I remembered the tee shirt in my drawer, the dry tee shirt that I
brought for emergencies like sweltering heat or coffee spills. If this
isn't an emergency, I don't know what is. The dry shirt helped a lot,
and so did the sweater that I keep around for chills.
My hair began to dry. My polyester pants had not absorbed to much
A co-worker came by. "You won't believe what happened to
me," she said. "I got caught in the rain. I had to go in the
drugstore and buy an umbrella."
Seems I'm not the only one around here that misjudged the cloud. She
didn't look very wet. Should I tell her what happened to me?
Nah, I didn't want to steal her thunder.
Copyright 2010 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
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