At eleven, the rain was supposed to stop at noon. At noon, it was supposed to stop at one. My friend and I kept moving our walk forwards as though we were negotiating with someone who might eventually agree.
By half past one, I had put on my shoes twice. The umbrella was in a bucket by the door, still wet from buying milk.
We had wanted to spend the afternoon together. Instead, we were spending it separately checking the same forecast.
We made one decision.
We agreed to stop waiting. My friend suggested a museum exhibition we had both mentioned and neither had booked. We checked the admission time, price and journey before buying tickets. If the available slot had left us rushing, coffee at my place was the other plan.
I checked the route and brought the coat that actually kept rain out. My friend brought dry socks, which I initially considered excessive and later considered wise.
At the exhibition we spent several minutes disagreeing about a painted object before reading the label. It was a hat. Neither of us had suggested a hat. My friend sat on a bench to change his damp socks while I returned for another look at how confidently wrong we had been.
The walk returned on its own.
Afterwards, the rain had eased. We walked a short distance because it was pleasant, not because we needed to recover the kilometres we had originally intended to cover.
We stopped when we wanted food. The conversation had become much better once neither of us was reporting weather updates every few minutes.
For the next outdoor plan, we agreed on a time to decide and a simple alternative. We also checked any booking terms before putting money into the fallback.
The forecast still changed. My shoes still needed drying occasionally. But the group chat became shorter, and I spent less of the afternoon dressed for an activity that was perpetually about to begin.
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