Evocative

Of the utter crappitude of a wet, wet, rainy, blustery Monday morning. 
Of a squelchy, damp, cold, miserable commute of such depressing magnitude that one could have been tempted to find some evil beauty in it, had one's mind not been preoccupied with the cold rain seeping into one's rain gear, through the bicycle helmet, down the collar at the back of the neck, and slowly, inexorably further down a shivering back, between the shoulder blades. 

Things picked up after that. But very very very very marginally.