If I were sharper, I would have taken the afternoon's clouding over with a particularly dark layer of clouds, which rained heavily enough to overflow some smaller monsoon ditches, as some kind of omen. But I didn't; I just thought it would complicate reading at the bus stop, and making it rather less pleasant to get the bus. The bus stopped behind another, so I got to run out in the rain, and get stuck behind people who were eventually exiting from the front so they'd have a shorter dash through the rain. At home was a note from Inland Revenue with this year's tax bill, which reminded me for the first time this year of charitable deductions I could have taken. I'll put it down to nation-building.
Hanging from my front door was a tied plastic bag with a box inside. I wondered if this was a sequel to that incident of the shopping bag. It wasn't, though; this was from spaceroo and Bride. The customs form identified the contents as ``shirt'', which seemed very odd. If I had left a shirt behind, the postage (US$9.75) outweighed the purchase price of nearly any shirt I had. But inside the recycled citrus squeezer box was a thank-you note and a Hawaiian shirt. It's not very flashy as Hawaiian shirts go, but by itself it still has more colors than all the rest of my shirts combined. I'm quite glad to have it and glad to hear from them.
The only remaining mystery is: I suppose the mail carrier brought the package up; they've done that before with packages. It couldn't be left on the floor because the common areas are exposed to the air, and with the rain something on the floor would likely end up in a wind-whipped puddle the size of the Straits of Malacca. So where did the bag come from? If it was Singapore Post-issued, why didn't it have any logos? If the carrier keeps some bags on hand for this kind of contingency, more credit to his or her foresight, but where'd it come from?
Trivia: On 31 August 1846 astronomer Urbain Jean Joseph LeVerrier published a paper giving his orbital elements for the predicted trans-Uranian planet. Source: In Search of Planet Vulcan, Richard Baum, William Sheehan.
Currently Reading: Sweets: A History of Temptation, Tim Richardson. It's a fine book, but it is written in British English, so many of the `sweets' mentioned required translation, like `comfits' or `pralines', which I've only encountered in BBC comedies. Custard and rhubarb? My only experience with that is a Dangermouse episode where Baron Greenback used a lunar base from which to fire cans of compressed custard at an unsuspecting world. (It made sense in context, and might have worked except the episode went in a really weird direction.)