I had one job.
Bring home dinner.
Reese had been craving linguine with white clam sauce from a new Italian restaurant, so after yoga I figured I'd surprise her.
Simple enough.
While I waited for the food, I heard thunder.
Then lightning.
Then rain.
Then all the rain.
By the time my order was ready, the sky had turned into what can only be described as an aggressive car wash.
The restaurant handed me my food in a paper bag.
A paper bag.
At that moment, I knew two things.
First, I was going to get soaked.
Second, that bag wasn't going to survive without help.
So instead of protecting myself, I cradled the bag like it contained the last surviving bowl of pasta on Earth.
The second I stepped outside, the weather shifted from "heavy rain" to "biblical punishment."
The rain wasn't falling anymore.
It was attacking.
My prescription sunglasses immediately became useless. My leather slip-on shoes tried to abandon me. Water was rushing down the street, and I was squeezing my toes just to keep my shoes attached while carrying this increasingly fragile paper bag toward the car.
I must have looked completely ridiculous.
Somehow, I made it.
I got the food into the car without destroying dinner, even though everything else, including me, was completely drenched.
Victory.
Or so I thought.
The drive home turned into its own adventure.
Roads were flooding. Cars were stopping in standing water. At one point I found myself creeping through what looked less like a street and more like a small lake, hoping my car wouldn't stall in the middle of it.
It didn't.
But my car did decide to drag part of its undercarriage home with me.
Apparently, flash floods and low-clearance cars aren't the best combination.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, Reese was waiting with a towel because I'd already called to warn her about the situation.
Her first words weren't, "Are you okay?"
They were...
"It smells like something's burning."
She wasn't wrong.
Fortunately, it turned out to be wet plastic under the car and not the entire vehicle bursting into flames.
The important thing?
The linguine survived.
And honestly, that's the part of the story Reese remembers most.
Looking back, it's funny what I remember.
Not the thunder.
Not the flooded roads.
Not wondering if my car was going to make it.
What I remember is trying to keep a paper bag dry.
Sometimes your brain decides one tiny thing is the mission, and everything else fades into the background.
Apparently, that night...
My mission was pasta.
Reese has already mentioned she's craving that linguine again.
I told her I'd go.
I also checked the weather first.
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