As I peered owlishly through my streaked visor and felt the icy rain soak through my supposedly rain proof clothing, I wondered if I hadn’t, long ago, traded in my common sense for an extra serving of pie. This theory would explain not only my insistence on doing things that most sane people gave up weeks ago, but also the size of my ass.

My bitter morning commentary towards commuters had a little more vitriol today, but it was also tinged with envy. Look at those fat cats in their warm, dry SUVs – why don’t you wreck the environment and have another sip of your delicious beverage, you selfish enviable jerks. Al Gore, who is undoubtedly drier than I, is shaking his fist at you for your inconvenient yet toasty truths.

I made it to work in one soggy piece, and once I’ve thawed I’m sure I will be fine. My insane commute gave me ample time to come up with some possible reasons for my continued stubbornness and refusal to give into the alluring yet smelly call of transit:

• I am a true Soldier of Science, conducting experiments on the effectiveness of rain pants
• Research for my new competitive sport: Extreme Hydro Scooting
• Attempting to hide my severe inability to wake up on time behind a staunch loathing of public transit
• Determined to take advantage of the new low gas prices, because spending $2.32 a week getting to and from work is frankly hilarious
• Mental deficiency
• Taking my “Mad Scientist” title a little too seriously; attempting to ascertain at which point my molecular structure will break down and turn into an absorbent, sponge-like material
• Tightness of rain pants makes it feel like I am wearing an ass corset

So you see, it’s not just because I’m dumb as a soggy box of hammers. I have valid reasons for riding my scooter to work at the end of November. Scientific reasons. I’m expecting a grant from the government any day now.