It wasn't raining when I rode to the market, but we are in the middle of a very large storm—not a drought-buster, but still a wet and fierce one—so I took my rain cape along in the pannier.
And sure enough, it was raining when I emerged from the market. But it was a normal rain, not a gullywasher yet, though I figured ti would become on soon, as the storm is carrying along embedded thunderstorms that dump streams of rain periodically for a half or or so, then taper off.
I decided not to bother with the rain gear for a mile and a half ride, especially as I was wearing wool top and bottom, including my own wool gabardine pants.
And yes, I got wet, though you barely feel it in proper wool. But I didn't bother changing when I got home and delivered the goods, because I've been this route before.
Within seven minutes, my wool had already dried from "wet" to "damp," and now, after half an hour, I can scarcely feel the moisture. The apartment's heat was not on, and we keep the balcony door open most of the year, so no climate-control system donated mechanical aid to my (or rather my pants') recovery to dryness.
Now, of course, if it had been raining as hard as it is now, I would definitely have put on the raincape—I have ridden through intense torrents in rain capes, and they work quite well—though only if your bike wears fenders, as all of Gina's and mine do. I did the five miles to or from work (when I still had a day job) in such conditions many a time, in our long-gone wet years.
Well, no point in changing now that the experiment is over; the pants are dry enough to lounge in, so I'm going to pull up a book and a chair by the big front windows and enjoy the rain some more.