Rain in Japan.

The rainy season has begun here. I was warned but shrugged it off thinking six years in the Seattle area had prepared me for whatever rain fell in Japan. Apparently my rain tolerance skills deteriorated in the Texas heat just as my trusted umbrella apparently has; One walk this afternoon proved it.

Don't misunderstand, I like rain just fine and I absolutely love a good thunderstorm but the timing is all wrong. Moving to the Tokyo metro area is beyond an incredible opportunity and the next three years hold so much possibility for learning and adventure. We quickly got phones, mostly for data use and navigational assistance, then received our SOFA driver's licenses. Now all we need is transportation.

Tokyo has the most extensive rail system in the world which thrills the heck out me, but until I take the class next week I will not brave it alone. We do not have a car yet and should really begin a serious search for one. I don't like the idea of being vehicle-dependent but surprisingly I don't think there is public transportation from our future housing area to my husband's work location.

At this moment, however, a car would be nice to escape this small hotel room. A couple hours ago, spurred by stir-craziness, I grabbed my umbrella for a walk. After initially stepping outside the 72 degree air felt refreshing and the rain was soft, similar to Seattle. Not so bad. But past the corner of building the wind found me and snapped my umbrella closed. Damn. Holding it open I continued on, fighting the directionless wind gusts while the misty rain seeped into my cotton clothes. This was not going to work. I cut my walk short and just stopped at the store to pick up the box of hot cocoa mix I was craving and returned, defeated, to the lodge.

Now I'm sitting in one of those strange reclining armchairs mid-level hotels often have, the kind that kicks up with one clunk and reclines with another, looking out the window watching the rain. One glance and it practically floats as a mist, then look again and it's falling in sheets, sideways. The television is on for him, but muted for me, as he uses the one ethernet connection. I have a book of word puzzles, shelves of books on my Kindle, a new iPhone to play with and my old laptop to keep me company and absorb my thoughts as it so reliably does. My shoulder is throbbing, a lingering effect of the long flight here. I see some ibuprofen and a hot cocoa in my future. And rain. Lots of rain.