One reason for stopping to write before heading off to bed is to let Fred know that while it might have seemed that the rain started as soon as I left, it held off for a good ways. I was nearly to Lake Street before I put on my rain jacket for the light rain that was following. By the time I got to Hiawatha I stopped at the underpass to put on my rain pants as heavier rain was starting. It let up again by the time I got to the U. The wind did, however, conspire to shift the direction from which it came from the west to the north so that I had a brisk wind in my face for most of my ride.
Later, as I showered, a stfnal thought occurred to me: When a generation of people begin living in space, what will their language begin to sound like? Like eskimos have so many words for snow, will they develop new words for things of vital importance to them? Will 'airlock' mutate to differentiate between outside locks, those between various atmospheres, those for people, those for cargo, those for vessels, and all the other kinds we haven't thought were needed yet?