“I thought you didn’t mind the rain,” I mentioned, totally free of judgment, as I sat down next to Gary.
“After several hours of torrential downpour, it just seemed ludicrous to sit there like everything was normal,” Gary answered with a sigh.
Gary had summed it up perfectly. After a while, the rain gets to all of us.
I usually don’t mind it. In fact, I love to relax on this very porch where I’m currently sitting next to Gary and writing this post, and just watch the rain.
I like to open the bedroom window during a storm, and allow the steady patter of the rain to serenade me to sleep.
Back when I used a white noise machine to sleep, I had it set on “Rain”.
Pretty ironic for a guy who isn’t a big fan of water, right?
There was a steady rain falling when I left The House on the Hill, so I put on a windbreaker over my running toga, wore a hat, and made sure not to run through any puddles of a suspicious nature or unknown depth.
Sure, I got soaked over the course of my 3 miles, but it felt refreshing and I covered the distance in a very quick time.
I don’t care what the Witches say, I’m so damn sweet that melting is a possibility!
Best of all, I had the road to myself because even the wild turkeys were smart enough not to run in the rain.
It was almost impossible to see, there was standing water on the road, and I found myself white knuckling the steering wheel like I do when I drive in a snowstorm.
Over the course of the afternoon, reports trickled in about flooded roads, dangerous driving conditions, and fallen trees (of course, that last one could have been due to lumberjack activity, as the pouring rain really seems to attract them for some reason!).
Every time someone came in from outside (why the hell they were going out in the storm I have no idea!!!), that person would be soaked form head to toe.
It was raining very hard. And people were freaking out, telling each other to drive safely (do they normally drive recklessly???), and talking about the water that was falling out of the sky at such as rate that I was sure there was a water main break in Heaven.
I must admit, Modern Philosophers, that the storm did get me a little anxious. About five years ago, when a rare hurricane visited Maine, a section of The House on the Hill’s roof got torn off (Gary the Gargoyle was not injured!) and there was some water damage to several of the rooms.
Luckily, the homeowner’s insurance paid for a new roof, but every time there is heavy rain or a blizzard, I get nervous about more leaks or roof damage.
When I got home tonight, and once I had chatted up Gary to make sure he was okay, I did a quick walk through of The House on the Hill to make sure all was well.
Aside from some wet spots on the concrete floor in the basement, everything was okay.
Holy $%^&, though, was it raining wicked @#$%^&* hard today!
Traffic was moving at about 45 mph on the highway, but there was no flooding, and no idiots out on bicycles with butterfly nets.
This is Maine, so one never knows what to expect on the road, especially when there’s severe weather.
I think half the population gets over cautious, and the other half just goes bat $%^& crazy.
Interesting fact: the live version of “Freebird” is not only very calming, but it is also long enough to last the entire drive home.
I know this kind of unrelenting downpour might lead to conditions in which Aquaman can step up and be a star, but does anyone really want to be rescued by the “superhero” who is a great swimmer and can talk to the fish?
I used to work in a mental hospital. I met several patients who thought they could talk to fish, and most of them were much cooler than Aquaman.
I’m sorry. I just had to get that off my chest.
Luckily, none of those animals were injured in the creation of this storm.
It was just a wet, yucky, anxiety inducing Autumn day. It’s supposed to rain for most of the night, but then the forecast is much nicer for tomorrow.
There’s always a silver lining to those ominous storm clouds!
This means I will be up bright and early to go for my run. Rain or shine, I am dedicated to this sweaty endeavor.
Unless I come across a puddle three feet deep being crossed by a guy on bike with a butterfly net. If that happens, I’m going back to bed.
“At least it’s not snow!”
Now I’m going to curl up on the couch with a big bowl of chilly, and try to free up some space on my DVR!