The following was written monday night, but it could apply today too. It’s cold and wet outside and I was going to eat lunch on campus (and so avoid the rain) until I remembered that I’d forgotten my wallet. Rather than be a hypocrite I should say “To hell with the rain, I won’t wait for it!”, like Gogol’s exaggerated Cossack warriors I have lately been reading about, the ones who, riding on their horses, are clouds perched on the tops of rumbling mountains. They wouldn’t have worried even a little bit about rain, though. That’s why they smear their clothes with tar.
Yes, I rode out into the cold, with my bare head and bare hands, with my pant legs rolled up to the knees, so as not to get caught in the heavy chain. I set off to do battle with the weather–freezing rain–and today was but a skirmish, the first of many, but I feel that I bested it. As always, with a first battle, we have caught each other unprepared… Perhaps, properly outfitted, I will continue the campaign well into the winter, on the snowy terrain where we haven’t yet met for battle, if every day the battle becomes feels like such an accomplishment.