It’s been pouring, pouring, pouring down rain for days now, the kind of rain that no umbrella or raincoat can shield you from.  This is a truly soaking rain: a misty-yet-relentless downpour.  It’s as if the sky had cracked open and all the waters of the heavens were falling down on us.  Last night there was thunder and lightning, but today, it’s just rain.  And more rain.  The cat, who usually enjoys sleeping under the swing during the rain, was up on his back feet, beating on the French doors with both paws to be let in.  Poor Charley Gordon.  I fed him in the kitchen today, even though I know it means sweeping up Cheapo-Chunks from all over the house later today..

 

I can remember when such a rain was cause for breaking out and experiencing, um, things.  I loved running bare. . .foot through wet grass, and feeling the water dripping down my . . .face.  

 

Now, I’m just annoyed by such rain.  I hate being all dressed for work and having to maneuver briefcases and books through the rain to the car and from the car to the school.  I ESPECIALLY hate when the car is behind the house in the grass, because we unloaded groceries or whatever on the deck the night before, and I have to walk through wet grass.  I hate wearing wet shoes.

 

Item:  When I unload groceries in the back of the house, I move the car to the driveway afterwards so I don’t have to walk throught he dewy grass in the morning.  Dewy grass is wet grass, too, and I don’t like that any more, either.  I think everyone should park the car where it belongs, don’t you?

 

I’m also upset because when it’s raining, I can’t cut the grass.  I hate it when the grass-tips slap the backs of my knees.  I hate it even more when the grass-tips are wet.

 

I think it’s time to move the riding mower to the other side of the garage, so I can park the car inside at night.  I’ll do just that, as soon as the rain stops.

 

I get whiny when it rains now.  Can you tell?  It’s a phase.

 

The next phase:  I start predicting rain with my knees.