Life is ironic, ain’t it?


I tend to have an ironic slant on life.

I remember this one night, it was right in the middle of the winter rainy season.  Now when you’re living on the streets you do everything you can to avoid the rain.  Because once you get wet, once your clothes get wet, especially once your shoes and socks get wet, you could end up spending the next couple of days walking around in wet clothes before you finally manage to dry out.  And that can be very unpleasant.

So this one night I was congratulating myself.  Because it had been a major rainstorm.  It rained non-stop all day long.  But I had cleverly managed to stay dry all day long.  Managed to stay one step ahead of the rain.  Dry as a bone.  Huddling under awnings and in doorways and stuff like that.  Successfully finding shelter from the storm.

Finally, by the end of the night, it stopped raining.  So I got up from my nice, dry doorway and I walked over to these bushes on the Berkeley campus to retrieve my camping gear that I had stashed there.  And at that exact moment, their sprinkler system went off.  Suddenly I’m trapped within this exploding wall of water.  Spraying at me from every direction.   The water was completely unavoidable.  And I got soaked to the bone.  With a long, cold, wet night ahead of me.

I suppose you could call that ironic.


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