A Trickle-Down Life
If you haven’t noticed, it’s been pretty wet around here lately. By my reckoning, it’s about a month since I even thought about wishing for a little rain. Boy, howdy, as they say.
I checked the date on the roof repair bid I got; it was written on April 12th, and the plan was to have the work done in two or three weeks. Ha! The best-laid plans of mice and men and homeowners who should have known better than to count on Texas weather to cooperate . . .
From steady downpour to thunderstorm, from gullywasher to torrent and dark afternoons with tornado warnings, you have to admit it has not been boring. But they say that if you don’t like the weather in Texas, just wait a few minutes. I waited. And waited.
I got really good at remembering just where to place the big styrofoam cooler in the back room so as to catch all of the plip, plip, plop, plop, plunk, plunk – well ‘most all, though during the breaks in the downpour I’ve sometimes had to run the floor fan to dry out the wet that got away.
If you’ve never had this particular problem you may not know that there is one thing you just cannot do when the weather is like this: You cannot have the roof repaired.
I kept remembering the famous words from the song “Mañana” — “but if we wait a day or two the rain may go away. . . ” Right.
Now, my livelihood depends to a certain extent on fair weather happening at least once in awhile (most folks don’t even think about looking at houses with cats and dogs running wild inside, let alone raining from the sky above), so I spent some time—okay, a lot of time as it turns out—watching the weather radar on my computer, figuring a little careful planning would take care of that problem. But just when it looked like a break in the weather was coming, turns out the folks who were planning to meet with me were inundated with their own deluge; they refused to believe, for example, that the sun was shining in Waxahachie when Red Oak was under a tornado warning!
A few years back my son was visiting from California when this kind of excitement was going on; settled comfortably in the big easy chair he observed, “I’ve never seen people sit in front of the TV and watch the WEATHER before!” I guess if they ever figure out how to track earthquakes on radar he’ll understand.
After all these dry years I discovered there are a few things to relearn, and if you by any chance haven’t yet, let me pass along a couple of words of wisdom.
First, if you find on leaving a building that your car is up to its hubcaps in water but you don’t want to wait—for how long, after all?—then, for heaven’s sake, remember to (1) roll up your pant cuffs and (2) take off your shoes! Boy did I feel silly forgetting THAT one! Took my sandals two days to dry out.
Second, if you’re already only five-foot-one, rest assured there’s no need to worry about shrinking and you’ll get home faster if you go ahead and brave the elements—especially if you (1) roll up your pant cuffs and (2) take off your shoes.
Third, umbrellas are pointless, since you’ll get drenched anyway, wrestling the doggone thing closed from inside your car while the rain follows you in.
As the runoff coursed down my street last week, I fantasized that I was living on a river; it was quite romantic, actually. When someone gives you lemons, make lemonade; when the good Lord gives you a river to gaze upon, appreciate it!
The kids across the street were appreciating it, too, laughing and splashing and thoroughly enjoying the adventure; the current wasn’t strong enough to be dangerous, but sufficient for fun.
I’ve decided there’s no point in sulking just because of a little rain. After all, it will eventually stop for more than a few hours, right? At least I still believe this. In the meantime, should I find myself living on a river again, I plan to roll up the pant cuffs, take off my shoes, fold a bright, crisp piece of paper into a toy boat, and join in the fun.
I checked the date on the roof repair bid I got; it was written on April 12th, and the plan was to have the work done in two or three weeks. Ha! The best-laid plans of mice and men and homeowners who should have known better than to count on Texas weather to cooperate . . .
From steady downpour to thunderstorm, from gullywasher to torrent and dark afternoons with tornado warnings, you have to admit it has not been boring. But they say that if you don’t like the weather in Texas, just wait a few minutes. I waited. And waited.
I got really good at remembering just where to place the big styrofoam cooler in the back room so as to catch all of the plip, plip, plop, plop, plunk, plunk – well ‘most all, though during the breaks in the downpour I’ve sometimes had to run the floor fan to dry out the wet that got away.
If you’ve never had this particular problem you may not know that there is one thing you just cannot do when the weather is like this: You cannot have the roof repaired.
I kept remembering the famous words from the song “Mañana” — “but if we wait a day or two the rain may go away. . . ” Right.
Now, my livelihood depends to a certain extent on fair weather happening at least once in awhile (most folks don’t even think about looking at houses with cats and dogs running wild inside, let alone raining from the sky above), so I spent some time—okay, a lot of time as it turns out—watching the weather radar on my computer, figuring a little careful planning would take care of that problem. But just when it looked like a break in the weather was coming, turns out the folks who were planning to meet with me were inundated with their own deluge; they refused to believe, for example, that the sun was shining in Waxahachie when Red Oak was under a tornado warning!
A few years back my son was visiting from California when this kind of excitement was going on; settled comfortably in the big easy chair he observed, “I’ve never seen people sit in front of the TV and watch the WEATHER before!” I guess if they ever figure out how to track earthquakes on radar he’ll understand.
After all these dry years I discovered there are a few things to relearn, and if you by any chance haven’t yet, let me pass along a couple of words of wisdom.
First, if you find on leaving a building that your car is up to its hubcaps in water but you don’t want to wait—for how long, after all?—then, for heaven’s sake, remember to (1) roll up your pant cuffs and (2) take off your shoes! Boy did I feel silly forgetting THAT one! Took my sandals two days to dry out.
Second, if you’re already only five-foot-one, rest assured there’s no need to worry about shrinking and you’ll get home faster if you go ahead and brave the elements—especially if you (1) roll up your pant cuffs and (2) take off your shoes.
Third, umbrellas are pointless, since you’ll get drenched anyway, wrestling the doggone thing closed from inside your car while the rain follows you in.
As the runoff coursed down my street last week, I fantasized that I was living on a river; it was quite romantic, actually. When someone gives you lemons, make lemonade; when the good Lord gives you a river to gaze upon, appreciate it!
The kids across the street were appreciating it, too, laughing and splashing and thoroughly enjoying the adventure; the current wasn’t strong enough to be dangerous, but sufficient for fun.
I’ve decided there’s no point in sulking just because of a little rain. After all, it will eventually stop for more than a few hours, right? At least I still believe this. In the meantime, should I find myself living on a river again, I plan to roll up the pant cuffs, take off my shoes, fold a bright, crisp piece of paper into a toy boat, and join in the fun.
posted by The Voice | 1:55 PM
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